I missed an entire day of blogging. How dare I! What could possibly draw my dedication to the Xanga community away? Work and travel. So, a little catch up.

Part 1: Leaving on a jet plane…

My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) dropped me off at the airport for my flight to Tampa. I am attended a work conference in Clearwater. The day started off well. I managed to get my e-ticket upgrade so I don’t have my knees in my throat and on top of that, it is in the first row…GOAL! It doesn’t happen often that I am in the front row, let alone the window seat.

I proceeded to my gate, B19 and waited for my plane to start boarding. About 15 minutes before we could board, a large amount of people appeared and started getting in line…to board my plane. Apparently, the Las Vegas flight was stealing out plane. The announcement came over the PA system, “For those of you waiting for your flight to Tampa, your gate has moved to B18.

B19, B18…close to each other right? Nope. As I started on my ¼ mile OJ Simpson run through the airport to my new and improved gate, I am a bit disappointed when I arrive. No plane. 10 minutes before takeoff, and there is no plane. I am thinking that is why the gamblers stole my plane.

So, I wait…and wait…and wait.

The plane pulls in 15 minutes after we were suppose to leave. As I am waiting for the plane, I notice there are little kids everywhere. Great…a plane full of kids. Then I notice one of the parents getting the bottle of children’s medicine out and begin to dose the kids. They look healthy…(the light bulb lights)…drugging the kids. Every family did it. I thought I was the only one to do that.

The plane begins to load (now 30 minutes late) and after the premier seating people take their seats, my group begins to load. Did I mention first row window? I am still a little miffed about being late, but I have the window seat. I board the plane and a very large man is standing in my way, huffing and puffing while attempting to stuff his bag under the seat.

He stands there with the line to get into the plane continuing to rise. I pardoned myself and informed him I have the window seat. He doesn’t here me. OK, maybe he is deaf. I wave my hand so he can see me and again inform him I have the window seat. The crowd behind me begins to pull out their sabers to chop off a head (mine or his). He steps back into the entranceway so I can take my seat.

He then sits back down and everyone behind him gives us the “look.” Meanwhile, the guy is not able to fully sit in the chair. He keeps trying to move the unmovable arms up so it is not squeezing his hips. Everyone finally takes their seat and the late-comer is the lucky individual to sit in the seat between me, and the big guy.

It is this point when the big guy asked if there was another isle seat further back he could trade someone. The flight attendant (who was very helpful) asks if someone would swap and they found him another seat in the exit row further back. He walks the 10 isles and attempts to take the seat. Nope…no luck. He trudges back to the front of the plane to take his seat back. The guy next to me muttered, “damn.” The flight attendant mentioned the middle guy may want to take the isle seat the bigger guy couldn’t use. Excellent idea! He takes it.

The flight attendant looks at me and I give him the “OK, better check out the big guy” look. He looks at him and has a sudden look of terror on his face. The big guy’s walk from the middle of the plane has caused him to sweat profusely and turn a dark shade of red. The flight attendant asked if he was OK and the big guy responded with “I have diabetes, I will be fine. Just need a glass of water. Hmm…we haven’t left the gate yet and this guy needs water.

Finally, we are out of the gate and heading down the runway. I keep checking on the big guy and think to myself. OK, I know how to do CPR on him, and I am sure, I can get the compressions down. I am not sure I can get him out of the chair and onto the floor. This may be an issue. The flight attendant I would guess was thinking the same thing.

Later in the flight, he had to stand to help his circulation, he had to ask for a glass of water 8 times, and ate a pack of M&Ms. OK, I know a little bit about how diabetes is treated and that anytime you have to eat chocolate, you are in a little bit of trouble. Great, I can see him slipping into a diabetic coma right there on the plane and we would have to land in Kentucky (again I managed to get Kentucky into my blog…without the KY).

Basically I watched this guy during the whole trip. We made it to Tampa 15 minutes late and everyone disembarked alive. Oh, and I didn’t hear a sound out of all of those kids on the flight.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). We manage to drug our kids (and sometimes ourselves) to keep them calm on the airplane. We should knock out certain people on the plane. The rowdy flyers, the shoe bombers, the person who keep kicking the back of your seat, the person who placed the seats 2 inches from each other making it so you have to eat your knees, Mr “T” all need to be drugged. Some people are just not meant to fly. If you are big guy on a plane to Tampa with diabetes, take a train next time.

Part 2 later.

I have a deep rooted fear, a fear so great that I would be willing to sell off my children to avoid ever having to face it again. A fear I and many others face everywhere in the United States at any time of the day. It is at work, at home, in a restaurant, a gas station, it is endless and yet I manage to get through the day without it totally trashing my day.

I don’t have a fear of enclosed spaces, nor bugs (well maybe spiders…because you don’t really notice them before half of my red blood cells are in their bodies), nor heights, nor animals. Not even being duct taped to the ceiling would scare me. I know the duct tape would hold. Some people fear relationships, shots, getting your tongue stuck in the mixer paddles or getting sick.

What is it that could make the strongest, funniest, smartest and most modest man in the world shake like a bowl of Jello? Toilet Paper. That is it. I have a fear of running out of toilet paper. My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) learned early that I had to have toilet paper at the ready at any given moment or location. She buys it by the pallet. Seriously, we purchase the largest pack made.

I even have stash throughout the house. I have two rolls in the closet, two rolls hidden in the spacepod, two rolls hidden in the kid’s bathroom closet. There are another two or three rolls in the basement. Andi keeps about 24 rolls in the house at all times.

What could possibly cause me to have a fear like this? Very simply, by not having it when I need it. In my youth, I was in the boy’s restroom in school and sat down to take care of business. I did not look before I sat down and then noticed the alarming lack of TP (code name for toilet paper) in the stall. OK, so I checked the bathroom and did the shuffle to the next stall which also had none, and the next, and the next. All of the stalls were out of TP. How could this be? So being 8 year old, I return to my original stall and scream for assistance.

Minutes which felt like hours went by with my hollering at the top of my lungs, “Help, I need help.”

At that moment a female voice yells in, “Is something wrong?”

Still young and not willing to yell out my usual smart comment of “why else would I be yelling for help”, I answer with, “there is no toilet paper in here.” It is at that point the school bell rings and is flooding with classmates in the hallways. She yells back in at the top of her lungs (because it is noisy in the hallway), “Someone will bring you the toilet paper in a second hon!”

As a guy, this is NOT a good broadcast in the hallway of the school. Laughter rang throughout and I continued to sit there. This is very similar to having a price check done on condoms. The janitor came in with toilet paper and handed it to me over the door. I stayed in there until I heard no other children in the school and finally exited. There was no way I was going to be known as Toilet Paper Boy.

I will never be placed in that position again.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Buy more toilet paper. Keep the stalls stocked. I will be checking every stall before I take my seat at the throne and if I find that yours is empty I will bitch and moan.

What do you fear?

I have been blogging for just over a month now and recently had a discussion with a co-worker (I will call jessieryder for the purpose of the blog) over my writing and people who read it. Jessieryder is a blogger on another board called 43 Things and writes intermittently.

Well, he apparently reads my blog as what he calls a “lurker.” We were trying to define the terms for each of the readers and this is what we figured out.

Lurker: Someone who reads a certain persons blog but does not have an account with said service (in my case Xanga). Jessieryder is a lurker.

Stalker: Someone who reads a certain persons blog but has an account with the service. These are people with an account that NEVER actually write a blog. People who are stalkers are often keeping track of multiple people’s writings through the subscription service.

Loyal Subscribers: These are people who subscribe and comment on blogs written. For most people, they are the best type of reader to have.

Featured Content Browsers: When you happen to make featured content, these people are the walk in readers who leave a comment and become evolve into stalker or loyal subscriber.

Featured Content Spammers: When you happen to make featured content, these people are the walk in “readers” who never really read the blog and put their own message like “Are you suffering from erectile dysfunction? Go to my site and comment!” or “Random props.” I am not a big fan of those.

There…I am not sure if there are other nomenclatures for the one I have made up, but this is how I categorize them.

As I was explaining this to my wife while we are sitting in bed reading MY subscriptions last night, she informed me that I am addicted to Xanga. I was appalled that she would claim I had an addiction. How dare she claim such a thing while SHE was sitting in the same bed with her laptop reading her subscriptions. So, as I began to provide my objection, she unplugged the power cord and grabbed her laptop.

My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) shuffles toward the bathroom and I ask her what she was doing. She informed me I should shut up and that I had better NOT write about this (I raise my one eyebrow). She steps into the bathroom with a laptop in one hand and begins the one-handed panty pull with the other. She is actually going to sit on her throne and blog. I guess she figures that the laptop is too close to type properly and she pulls over the 24 pack of Charmin (see yesterday blog comments) and uses it as a table to hold the laptop.

I walk in there to see how this is working out for her and break out in hysterics. My wife is sitting on the pot, reading her subs on her laptop, delicately placed on the Charmin. My first thought is "Where is my digital camera?" She informed me again that I was to tell noone...how can I not? This is just BEGGING to be told and I am SURE I will pay for it later, but I am on my way to Tampa tomorrow morning, so I will risk it.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one); Actually, today I have more than one. Laptops in the bathroom? I use a Blackberry in the bathroom. It is less intrusive and people don’t give you that “what do you think you are doing with that in there” look. How far can an addiction go before it is too far? How can you tell if you are addicted? Is there a Xangans anonymous group? A 12 step program? How does DSM-IV define a Xanga addiction? Is my wife an addict? I think so.

The second point is what does it matter what kind of reader you are? I don’t care if you are a Lurker, Stalker, Loyal Subscriber or Featured Content Browser (noticed I didn’t say Featured Content Spammer). The reason I write is for me. The reason I read is for me. For those who leave comments, I am eternally grateful. I like reading peoples reaction.

OK, I have to go read my subs.

That government is best which governs the least, because its people discipline themselves.

Thomas Jefferson


I tend to stay out of politics with my blog for a couple of reasons, there is no humor in politics and it is a volatile subject and I am a big wimp when it comes to confrontation. I think that once you bring political views into your personal space, it has gone too far. But, at what point do we say enough is enough? Today, I am experimenting with it because it came to me that people are letting things happen, complaining and not doing anything about it.

We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Well, aren’t we all confused. We agreed to insure domestic tranquility. Do you think that requiring Google to hand over all of their search records or providing federal back-doors to your operating systems were in the plans when they wrote this? How about when you check out a “questionable” book out of the library and having your name show up on THAT hot sheet?

On the other hand, there is securing the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity. Liberty is one of the most powerful words of human kind. We became the empire we are from liberty and the freedoms afforded to us by the Constitution. When I say we, I mean the United States. As a Native American, the treaties and bonds are a whole separate issue.

We the people have managed to make the government bigger than we ever have in the United States history. We have created multiple agencies specifically to intrude on the privacy of the United States citizens for the security of the United States citizens. I don’t have issue with the FBI; I have issue with the NSA, and Homeland Security. Were or are we all in so much fear that we were willing to accept anything we had to in order to insure domestic tranquility?

So what will happen…when Fahrenheit 351, Minority Report and 1984 actually happen? What happens when everyone in the United States is given a number like a social security number? What happens when your DNA is compiled and stored in a federal database like a blood bank? What happens when profiling is used to find those criminals and terrorist like at airports and stadiums? Will you feel safer? Will it be worth giving up every bit of information to the largest data repository in the world to store what you are going to eat, where you are going to sleep, and how many Fruit Loops are in your bowl?

What if I told you they know. They know all of this information. They know I am typing this blog. They know everything about me and can find me at a moments notice. Why does it take so long to find a mass-murdering ass like Osama BinLaden? He doesn’t live in the United States. This information is great for the federal police forces.

What about mistakes? What happens when the profiler is wrong and they arrest your brother? What happens when you hear a mysterious clicking on your phone one hour after reading this blog?

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). We the people. We are the people. We the people need to stand up, stand out, and make our opinions known about for the better good of the United States of America; in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

How do you insure domestic tranquility and secure the blessings of liberty? How do you make yourself heard? Through the vote? Common or popular vote does not work as demonstrated in four prior elections (1824, 1876, 1888, 2000). The high executive seats are decided by the electoral college. So how is it really, we the people? Do YOU feel your liberties are being infringed upon?

I will step down from my soap box now. Hopefully, I will never have to post one of these ever again. Politics is not fun or funny. I just worry about my posterity.

This is just a quick shameless plug. He doesn't know I am doing it.

Before I started writing my blog about The Bean, I asked macastat if he had photos already that I could use in my blog. He informed me that he didn't but that he wanted to get down there sometime this week. The good doctor has excellent artistry and continues to amaze me with his prose and photo.

I consider him one of the best photographers I have ever seen. Please go visit his site here and note the Cloud Gate Sun and Shadow photo. That is my favorite of The Bean.

I will speak, and pay you money, and you will have sex with me.

I have a daily dose of Reuter’s Oddly Enough. This is a series of news articles that do not have the “usual” news. It usually contains things like “People Swim Naked in Freezing Water in Berlin” or “Cash pours in for Student’s $1 Million idea” (both from previous blogs). Well, today the article reads:

Man says “spell” won him harem of 10 wives

TOKYO (Reuters) - A middle-aged Tokyo man found to be living with 10 younger women said he attracted them by reciting an incantation that came to him in a dream.

The 57-year-old man's unusual living arrangements came to light when another woman complained to police that he had threatened her after she refused to join his harem, Kyodo news agency said Wednesday.

"I had a dream that told me I would become attractive to women if I recited a particular incantation," it quoted the man as saying.

A rapid series of weddings and divorces left the man with a large group of ex-wives, mostly in their 20s and 30s, who shared his surname and continued to live with him.

This seems absolutely ludicrous to me. What in the world would make a woman become uncontrollably love struck enough to marry the man and then be OK with living with him and his 9 previous wives? What…What….WHAT? Do you think he said the same thing every time?

Well, I think I have come up with a few.

For QueenSuchandSuch…”Yes Dear”
For LittleMissCantBeWrongEver… “I am a shoe and perfume salesperson”
For QueenCrab… “I am a shoe salesperson…who hunts”
For Still_groovy…”I am a chocolate salesman”

I could go on for days with this. My point (as I almost always have one) is to follow the platinum rule. What is the platinum rule? Well, you probably know the golden rule of “treat others as you would want to be treated.”

But is that really right? What if the other person is a masochist? Do you want to be tied up and whipped? Well, maybe you would…but I wouldn’t. The whip makes marks…feathers on the other hand…um…well…I digress.

Anyway, I tend to follow the platinum rule of “treat others as they want to be treated.” If they want to be whipped, whip them. If they want to marry a shoe and perfume salesperson, and you are an astrophysicist, change occupations. Personally, I changed a lot of my mind set for my wife. I do whatever I can to have her not throw pots at me or duct tape me in a corner.

What would someone have to say to you for you to marry them? Do you believe in the golden or the platinum rule?

I am a fairly technically savvy individual. Actually, my wife used to call me high techno-weenie. I used to love gadgets. Now, I am not as amused. But today was different. I jumped into the new and improved elevator. An elevator impressed me. It wasn’t the swooshing of the doors as they permitted me to move to my 3 floor office, no, it was much better.

It was a television screen. This television screen was attached to the front left corner of the elevator. I didn’t notice it at first because I was noticing the putrid color of the new carpeting. At first I thought, “How much time do they think I am going to be in here?” But when my eyes finally met the screen telling me it was currently 30 degrees outside, all of the blood rushed out of my head and toward my middle section.

I press the new 3 button and move to the back of the car as others begin to pile into the moving platform. Wow, the temperature tomorrow will be 32 degrees and 40 on Thursday! Woohoo! This little bit of news was fabulous news.

The elevator dings and I have safely arrived to the third floor…my floor…but the screen just changed. This is not right. If my office was on the 11th floor, I would be able to see MUCH more of the news and weather offered from this incredible device. So, I stood there. Nobody exited and someone did not hop on board. Of course I made the comment; I guess these “new” elevators are experiencing technical difficulties. So, I ride the elevator to the ninth floor and exit. In that time, I find out that Disney bought Pixar for $7.4 million and Daimler Chrysler will be adding 6,000 people to the unemployment line.

But was that all of it? Could my thirst be quenched by just those three tidbits of fact? No! I have to know MORE! Back onto the elevator I go selecting the lobby button. I notice that this elevator is back at the Pixar news flash. This is wonderful! I ride the elevator down, back up to the top, and down, and up, and down again until I notice the same news is being displayed again.

There were people entering and exiting, disrupting my view of the valuable information being displayed on the screen…Ooh, Fidelity Investments have the best track record…rats…that’s a commercial. Incredibly, it ended up being about 25 different news and commercial screens. I learned so much.

But are they all this way? My elevator bank is only 11 floors, what about the elevators that have to go to the 38th floor? Do they have more news because of the longer trip? I have to know. So, onto the higher floor elevators I go. I think it is much easier to get on these elevators as nobody will notice me riding the elevators because I don’t work in this elevator bank. What do you think I discovered? They are the same. This is great! They have a longer ride with the same amount of news. That means our elevator bank has the best value! I always like it when I get a deal…that was free…to me.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Take a ride. Yes, I spent 30 minutes of my really crappy work day riding up and down in the elevators, experimenting, and trying to pull a Rainman on the little televisions, but I had FUN. Try to have fun in your work day. If you don’t have a wonderfully modern elevator, use your chair and computer screen

I am a big fan of art. I feel that art is an expression of a person’s emotion or message into a piece of canvas, stone, metal, wood or paper. I have seen amazing artwork from Leonardo DeVinci, Salvadore Dali and I.M.Pei. I understand how art influences the perceptions of a place but I have to wonder, where do we draw the line?

Take for example the Bean. Chicago is a wonderful city full of art and culture. The Art Institute has the Lions proudly standing in front. Art is reflected in the architecture with the Tribune building, the Wrigley building and so many others. Buckingham Fountain is magnificent during the summer. But let’s talk about this bean.

The bean is a shiny stainless steel structure measuring 33 feet high, 42 feet wide and 66 feet long. Even if the jolly green giant ate this bean, he would have a week long fart. Why a bean? Why a giant fart creator? It was really meant to be called “cloud gate” because 80 percent of it's surface reflects the sky. One of my many problems with this is, I am not 34 feet tall. However, it looks like a giant bean and everyone calls it “the bean.” It is very pretty in a bubble wrap, tin foil…ohhhhh…shiny….kind of way.

How much did the newest landmark cost the city? Hang onto you belt buckles…$11,500,000.00 and it was delivered LATE. Granted this may have been a gift from SBC, but it was $11.5 Million anyhow. You know, if I delivered something late, I would be taken into the lobby and duct taped to the ceiling. But that’s not all boys and girls, there is operating costs for the structure that just stands there. $300,000 has been earmarked for day-to-day operating expense which is paid by city tax payers.

There are about 7,000 homeless people in Chicago. There are 765,742 Cook County people living below the $9,645 poverty line. That is 14.5% of the population.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Doesn’t London, Paris, Chicago, Dallas, Louisville, or Berkley Springs, West Virginia need one of my famous sculptures? I would be willing to charge them only half a bean for my original artwork. My masterpiece would reflect ingenuity, diversity, bonding and resilience. It is recognized by millions of people across the globe as a token of rebuilding and restructuring.

I offer to the cities of the world “The Duct Tape.” It would be large…and round.

This will be a 75 foot sculpture of duct tape made entirely of real duct tape! My landmark will bring visitors from all over the world. It is yours for only $5.75 Million. My operating expense will only be $150,000. So, call, write, bribe, blackmail or sleep with your mayor. In return, I will take all of the extra money and build about 50 Habitat for Humanity houses and provide a $25,000 per year job for 6 people to “operate” the monster roll of duct tape.

:EDIT: I was just informed by a co-worker that under the "gift" is another $30 million is structural support additions because the bean's weight was not accounted for when the underground garage was created. The tax payer footed that bill. I guess that is like building a National Archives in Washington, DC and not taking into account the weight of the books

When I first started thinking about this question, I thought this was going to be a quite complicated assignment. HUH…What was I thinking? This is a piece of cake!

My wife, Andi (QueenSuchandSuch). No, I am NOT writing about her because she blogs. I may have mentioned in previous blogs that my first wife actually put me in date clothes to send me out into the dating world. Well, that was part of it there is much more. When Teri, my first wife passed away, it was sudden and unexpected. Andi was with me through the hardest time in my life. Not only was she there for me, but most importantly my kids. The three of them were 8, 9, and 10.

Compassion and understanding. Andi made sure she was there when I told the kids. She was there when they had to go back to school. Her attitude toward helping the kids was always positive and when challenged with adversity, stepped up to the plate. When I was a slobbering ball of goo, she made sure I stayed focused.

When my middle child, Shae was having an unsually hard time with going to school and coping with her Mom's death, Andi called the school. She asked the guidance counselor if she could proclaim today Shae Day. The counselor thought this was an excellent idea and immediately hopped onto the speaker system and announced "Today is Shae Day. Please make sure you wish Shae a happy day." Andi made sure flowers were delivered and a cake was made with Happy Shae Day on it. Shae came home thrilled to death and did not stop talking about it.

This is the compassion and understanding that I live with every day. She has inspired me to make trips to the grocery store and drop hundreds of dollars just to take it to the battered womens shelter or for the can drive. Just today, we packed up half of the kitchen cabinets for a family in need. Andi is always telling me, we have so much and people around us have so little. If we even give a little, that will mean so much.

She has done so much more for me than I could ever explain. I will never be as good or compassionate of a person as she. I hope my kids have learned from her and will be as well.

As I sit here in the kitchen typing the post, I am looking at the countertops and begin to wonder why it is we have so many appliances. I love kitchen appliances. They are in some way like tools…for the kitchen. I know you all are thinking, “they are tools for the kitchen.” But seriously, why so many, so big?

Let me take inventory. I have a Christmas gifted Toastmaster toaster. It is the kind where you can stick your pet rock in it if you decided to, not the catapult kind of toaster. This toaster is less than stellar. It toasts (which is the purpose) but it is really slow. I have the backup catapult toaster in the corner cabinet.

Next is the KitchenAid standing mixer. This mixer was handed down to me from my Mom. It is about 40 years old and when it was bought, it was considered the bakery edition (because we owned a bakery). I would never get rid of the mixer. I will pass that down to my kids.

I have 2 knife blocks (because 1 wasn’t enough). I am not sure what to think of having so many knives in the house. When that time of the month comes around, I notice that both of the knife blocks are always empty. What in the world do they do with those knives?

The microwave is mounted above the stove. The fridge ends the line on that wall. Oh wait, the new roaster is on top of the fridge. The roaster; I …err Santa made this for my wife because my wife asked Santa for this a while back. Well, now when we buy a turkey, we buy the Jenny-O oven ready turkey. Out of the package and into the oven. It is very easy, and very good.

The next set of counters hold the coffee pot, tea pot and the bread machine (a gift for my wife, QueenSuchandSuch). When I say tea pot, this means a Mr.Coffee specifically not allowed to have coffee in it. We drink a LOT of tea in this household. The bread machine has not been used as of yet…hint, hint honey!

That is it for the countertops. It is what is UNDER the countertop that really boggles my mind.

We have stored in the corner cabinets…why is it we store the heaviest, most awkward, kitchen appliances in the corner cabinet? The following is a “small” inventory of what is in there:

Coffee grinder
Catapulting Toaster
Coffee Maker (backup)
Blender
Big crock pot
Little crock pot (LOL…almost typed crack pot)
Electric Skillet
Belgian Waffle Maker
Regular Waffle Maker
Food Processor

Sixteen total kitchen “tools.” We are missing a few as well. We don’t have an electric can opener, a convection oven, or a George Foreman grill…but I am sure they will show up some day.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why is it with all of this technology, we can’t figure out a way to combine them all? The George Foreman grill has the same theory of using a clamshell type of technology, like the Belgian and regular waffle irons. The electric skillet has the same heating style as the large and small crock pots.

Let’s make the Swiss army knife of kitchen appliances! Let combine them all into one unit so we reduced the amount of storage and cupboard space. We are somewhat there already with the blender/food processor combo, or the convection oven/microwave combo even the laundry room has been updated with the washer/dryer combo. This is a clothes washer that also dries. At what point does the kitchen get easier to maintain? Instead of the old days of the stove, a mixer, a fridge and a sink, now we have to have so many electric and electronic gadgets just to make a meal.

Oh, and I need my $1 million consultation and idea fee.

I have been blogging for an entire month now. One month of fun filled frolicking fantasies. I have been challenged with my first ode, a week of duct tape, and now...ilsurvive has challenged me to explain urinal etiquitte. To be perfectly honest, I am not really the right person to ask about this subject. Fact is, according to all of the guy handbook, I failed Urinals 101.

According to the Internation Center for Bathroom Etiquitte, there are a lot of different etiquittes for whatever the situation gives. DrinkNation also has an exam for people wanting to know how they fall in the etiquitte category. In a nutshell, these are the basic urinal rules:

• No talking , unless it is a good friend...but even then, keep it terse and unemotional. This is not a clubhouse.
• Absolutely no touching of anyone other than yourself. A touch of another's elbow is of the highest offense.
• No Singing.
• Glances are for purposes of ackknowledgment only..."Yeah, I see you there. I will not look again."

That's about it. I have to ask why? Why did we make these rules? What made someone come up with all of these standards and tests?

Challenges in Urinals include the trough urinal. Basically, someone made a trough and placed it in the middle of the bathroom so guy could stand on both sides of the urinal and allowed more people to use it. There is a major problem with this thought though. It was kinda like a polish firing squad. Guys were aiming and missing (overshooting) the trough. They were short lived.
Japan has the floor urinal model. There was a problem with this as well. The men would aim for the mint and thus splatter all over the floor or cause the mint to fly out, thereby making the target on the floor itself. OK, for those women who do not know what the mint is, it is a deordorizing disc that it sometimes in a plastic mesh basket. Most of the time, it stands alone.

Japanese started placing plastic bug in the urinals to produce a "game" of sorts.

MIT graduates have taken it a step further, they have created a video game for the urinal. You're in Control is a video game with a mat placed IN the urinal and a screen above the urinal. I can't wait for it to arrive on the market.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Let's give the already enjoyable activity of peeing a step up. ESPN Zone has the idea by placing screens above the urinals so what about the plain, ordinary empty wall urinals? Duct tape a newspaper above it! Start sing-along songs while standing there waiting for the big release. At the football game, instead of doing the peepee dance, start a peepee line dance. Talk about the decor. Just relax.

Men have been known to have problems going pee because of peer or pee'er pressure. I think if everyone would just relax the rules of etiquitte, the problem would be resolved. Additionally, if there is enough noise in the bathrooms, the stalls will not have to hold back either.

Do women have these type of issues? Oh, one last point...What will women think when this shows up in their bathrooms?

To be perfectly honest, I have NEVER written an ode so this will be an entirely new experience for me. I actually had to read up on how to write an ode in the 30 minutes I have, and write it as well. Please do not bash the ode newbie on the 10 line stanza ode. This will also be my last entry for the week of duct tape. I have never dedicated so much time to a single product.

So, in response to shafftrac I present

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Do NOT ask me to make another ode. I will be freestyle writing again tomorrow. Thanks for a great week of duct tapedness!

To carry on the week of duct tape, I have come up with a small list of everyday uses.
Auto painting and repair: Grey is an excellent color to change your now sunflower yellow corvette. Not only can you change the color for pennies on the dollar, but you can patch those holes made from the rust.

Tattoos: So, you had Juanita's named tattooed on your arm and you are no longer with her. Don't pay for the expensive laser surgery, throw duct take on it. Then it is like having a blank slate. Break out the dark blue Sharpie and write George! Show off your new design at the escaped convicts meeting. They will love it.

Frostbite preventative: When you feel the sting of cold air and snow brushing up against your face at the Bears vs. Fudge Packers football game, slap some duct tape on your skin. It protects from the cold and water with the plastic barrier.

Wart remover: Please do not use this on genital warts. Nuf said.

Securing Toilet Seats: Often we guys have some female come into our homes or place of work and insist that the toilet seat be placed in a position other than the proper salute. Duct tape it into place. Better yet, duct tape the entire opening making it unusable by the person who keeps putting it down. (rolls eyes muttering) women...

Hair removal: When using duct tape to remove unwanted hair, rip the hair off with the grain. Going against the grain produces a tearing effect thus creating a bright red look to the underlying skin. For the stubborn hair growth like back hair, pinch the duct tape around the hair for better pulling power. Caution: this may hurt a little.

Improving Home Insulation: If you have one of those high traffic, drafty areas of the house the is rather dimly lit, grab the Saran Wrap and duct tape the opening to prevent air flow. This also creates seconds of enjoyment when someone walks into the clear plastic barrier.

Soundproofing: With a strip of duct tape, you can instantly lower the volume of that annoying Dora's Talking Kitchen that you put together on Christmas Adam. If you use two strips, it reduces the volume even more. This also works with the children that USE the Dora's Talking Kitchen.

Improving Gas Milage: Duct tape the bumpers of your vehicle sticky side out first. Usually, we end up duct taping the bumper back on, but this time, tape it before it breaks off. Then while in traffic, give another car a nudge and place the car in neutral thus adhering you to the other car.
Securing moving items: When you co-worker desk drawer keeps rolling out of the drawer slot because of pulling, use duct tape. Duct tape prevents the drawer from ever rolling open without a backhoe to pull it. This method can also be used for securing a handset to a phone, securing chairs to a desk and many other helpful office uses.

Commit a robbery: Oh, wait, Still Groovy already covered that.

Oh, yes, and as Bad Dogma has so nicely pointed out. Duct tape has been known or at least accused of taping ducts.

So, think about all of the uses for duct tape and meet me at the Duct Tape festival in Avon, Ohio on June 16.

With this being the week of duct tape, I decided to take you into the wonderful world of fashion.

Duct Tape fashion is on the rise. Soon you will see Vera Wang, Jessica McClintock, Ralph Lauren all making their fashion contribution with duct tape. Think of it, The long perfectly fitting shimmering silver with the precision Sharpie label. I get a tear just thinking about it. When will the big stores of the Gap, Sport Authority, Jos A Banks, or Lane Bryant start carrying the hottest up and coming line of fashion and footwear? It is not too far away.

The next thing you know, your fashion concious friend will be wearing the latest in Duck labelled duct tape brand 3 piece suit.

For those of you feeling the need to wear white on your wedding day...white duct tape! The fun never stops! Consider how much money you may spend on a wedding dress. What would you expect to pay for this beautiful dress? $1,400..nope, $700...not even that...That's right you can make this dress for about $10. That's right, $10. Two rolls of white duct tape.

Who designs these ingenious fashions? Teenagers. Yep, there are actually competitions for duct tape fashion. This picture is the 2004 1st place winners for the prom ensemble.

How about a wedding?

I am not the only person to realize the value of duct tape. How about a ball?

The Duct Tape Ball in Anchorage, Alaska being one.

Oh...And don't forget the boots!

Since I have proclaimed this the week of duct tape, here is my second duct tape entry.

Believe it or not there actually is a care and use policy for duct tape. I personally have tested a good portion of them. This is a short example of the care and use:

For personal protection:

Do not cover nose AND mouth of the assailant with duct tape. Side effects for this prescription are bursting blood vessels in the eyes, a red tinge to the skin followed by a blue tinge, shortness of breath, sudden tremors, spontaneous defecation, and even death. I have listened to a lot of prescription ads.

When wrapping wrist, arms or feet, ensure that the assailant has at least three complete wraps. If the assailant is larger or stronger than the average assailant, use four wraps. Please note: For bondage purposes, I suggest two wraps in case the person taping has a heart attack.

For easier removal, I suggest folding the last 1/4 to 1/2 inch of tape over onto itself do create a "dog-ear." This makes it much easier for the local police officer or prefect to place the handcuffs or wire-ties. Often, if the duct tape if efficiently secured, the officer will leave the duct tape on the wrist.

For securing items where they are not normally secured:

When I walk through trade shows, I often find extension cords strewn about and hung by the ceiling grid. When taping cords such as this, I suggest laying cardboard over the item first, and then taping down the cardboard. This reduces the chance of wires being crushed and when driven over by a hand cart.

I rarely remove duct tape. But for those of you who actually feel they need to remove the residue instead of taping of it again, try WD-40. Yes, the other handy-man special actually removes the residue. Spray the adhesive, let it sit for a few minutes and wipe off. There are other methods such as goo-be-gone or duct tape adhesive remover, but almost everyone already has WD-40.

For those of you looking for perfect birthday gift, I suggest the Yin & Yang Pack.

Wet or frozen surfaces:

For duct taping frozen surfaces (such as placing poly where your car window used to be), I suggest first scraping the ice off. Place the duct tape someplace warm prior to attaching. Ensure the surface is dry. Attach duct tape. If condesation or water is an issue, attach more duct tape.
When taping wet surface adhere duct tape all of the way out to the driest point. Another option is to cover the surface with spray adhesive, wait until tacky, apply duct tape.

Tomorrow we cover clothing and fashion.

I have been given the honorary title of the "King of Duct Tape." The problem is, I am actually NOT the king. I have been a follower of great duct tape users such as the late John Belushi or MacGuyver. Angus MacGuyver is actually the first person (fictional or not) to peak my interest in the many usages of duct tape.

For all of you who NEVER watched, the show that changed my life forever. A fan, a dough-scraper and some duct tape, forms an excellent helicopter attack. He had extensive knowledge in all of the sciences and mathematics. He was my hero. I would sit in front of the TV day after day wondering how he would escape the guerilla camp or skyscraper with his duct tape. Every episode included the possession I so greatly prize.

Why duct tape? It is a perfect every usage product. The adhesive on one side, the nylon or cotton cord meshed throughout, and the plastic waterproof barrier on the other side. There are entire web sites prescribing duct tage uses. For example:

101 Uses for Duct Tape (It actually has 252)
The Duct Tape Page
The Department of Homeland Duct Tape Security (the True Kings)
HMO on a roll (the True Kings again)
Even the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!

This is just a sprinkling of all of the sites that have uses for duct tape. I would bet that if Luke Skywalker had access to duct tape, he would not of been in half the bad situations he was in.

I have taken the uses outside of the "normal" parameters. Duct tape is excellent for immobilizing someone. It takes about 3 complete wraps to prevent a person from escaping. Try it. Now, this does vary as all duct tapes are not alike. The nylon fiber duct tape only takes 3 wraps. The cheaper cotton fiber (which is easy to tear) will require 5. Spend the extra money and purchase the nylon fiber.

Some additional uses that I have personally performed are duct taping the porta-potty (it is not a JOHN and I will have another blog on that!). Let me explain why I would tape it to begin with...I was working at a job site with this one guy who on a regular basis make the porta-potty unusable. His attitute towards our sensory well being was unacceptable. Therefore, we felt it was time for him to understand the pain we go through regularly.

We taped him in...We ran the roll of tape all of the way around the movable outhouse multiple times just to make sure. Then we taped up the side vents. The only air for the now duct tape box was the down tube ventilation. After we returned from lunch, we let him out. Now I know you think this was cruel and unusual, but if you had to walk in there afterward....THAT was cruel and unusual.

I personally have been taped to a horizontal beam in legislative hall in Dover, Delaware during lunch. We have taped up people and thrown them in the back of the pickup to head for lunch (at least he had lunch). I have used tape to fix upholstery in that same truck. I have used it to repair a hose in that same truck. With the new colors available, the options are limitless! I love when technology catches up with the sensible needs.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Buy duct tape. No, I do not own stock in duct tape. Duct tape is the most versatile products out on the market. Tape, tape to your hearts content! Tape up that dripping pipe. Tape up the spine of that book and use a Sharpie to rewrite the title! By the way, my wife (QueenSuchAndSuch) is the Sharpie Queen.

We are running low. I am off to buy another case.

:EDIT: I forgot to include the duct tape news source (Yes, it even has it's own news source)

:EDIT: I propose that this week be designated Duct Tape week! If you have a duct tape story, blog it. The best one wins a roll of duct tape!

Today's post was ever so slightly delayed by a road trip to South Haven, Michigan. I loved the town. It was delightful...except for when we were leaving town. I moved up to the red light and another spacepod drove by me in the left lane and blow through the stop light. The van was plowed into by a car with the green going through the intersection. The van went flying and spinning and both driver appear to make it out ok. I told the cop I witnessed it and gave my info and we were back on the road.

Why were we in South Haven? Well, a co-worker and friend of mine, owns a house there. Normally on road trips, we are unplanned and just hop in the car and go. That is basically what we did today. My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) decided we should go for a drive. Now, understand, this is like payday for me. I LOVE taking spontanious road-trips. At one time, a simple drive to Washington D.C. turned into a weekend in Maine (see the December 28 post).

In the past we have used the blind atlas method of choosing an end point, a let's find out where this road goes method, a I have something to show you method and several others that I can't really remember.

The blind atlas method works like this: Andi opens the atlas with her eyes closed and sticks her finger in the map. Wherever that may be, we go. When we ended up in Cape May, NJ, she pointed out in the Atlantic Ocean...That was as close as we could get. The sharks placed big signs in the water stating we would be eaten if we went futher. I love Cape May. Andi is now very wary of following this method since the shark incident.

The second method is the let's find out where this road goes. This is the road that started our trip to Maine. It works like this..."Where are you taking me?" with my response being "that way." I can be so descriptive.

The latter part of the trip used the I have something to show you method (this has been used for several trips to Wisconsin). When we entered Connecticut, I switched from let's see where this goes to Let me show you Maine. I love travelling. I have touched ground on 49 of 50 states (missing Hawaii) and 5 Canadian Provinces and 1 Canadian territory. I will touch ground on all of them. It is easiest to take these trips on long weekends because sometimes, you need time to recover.

This brings me to my point (as I always have one). With tomorrow being a legal holiday, why? Why is it, in this time of diversity and freedom of religion, we have to celebrate certain holidays. Take for instance, Thanksgiving. As much as I enjoy the little beat up your neighbor for the last Dora talking kitchen shopping holiday the day after, what is the point? Companies are trying to become more diverse. Why don't companies just say, you have 30 days to do whatever you want. You can be sick, take vacation, celebrate holidays, or perform your yearly nude polar bear swim.

Have a happy Martin Luther King Jr. observed birthday off!

Warning, this post is long…go pee first. Several people have asked how QueenSuchandSuch and I have met. Well, today we are going to attempt a special treat. I am going to recall how our relationship started from my side, and Andi is going to recall how she THINKS it all happened from her side. I start this blog with my point (as I almost always have one) which is, you never know what will happen until you try.

Think back to December 1997. The radio is playing “MMMBop” by Hanson and “Walking on the Sun” by Smash Mouth. I am in Reston, Virginia, working at my new position as a Microsoft Systems Consultant for a computer systems integrator. My wife, Teri, had her cancer surgery and has forced me to start dating. She believed it was not fair that she was not able to fulfill her wifely duties (this is a long blog in itself) after the surgery and is not willing to move to the Washington D.C. area. I accepted the new position for money. In Salisbury, Maryland, my salary was half of what I made across the creek (Chesapeake Bay). Since Teri came down with cancer, her salary had to be subsidized with my new position.

This brought me to the point where I am now, living single in Virginia, sending my paycheck back to Maryland to support my wife and three kids. I had not touched the dating scene for over 12 years. So, my wife had to teach me to date. She bought me black jeans, with a white shirt, and a flannel button down shirt (unbuttoned) to lay over top and my black pea coat. She taught me that I HAVE to bring a gift of some sort to a first date…chocolate, flowers, a TV…just something. She reminded me that other women out there still like to have their door opened for them, that chivalry was definitely a win.

What she did NOT tell me was where to start. I am not a big fan of the bar scene. I love to dance, and often did in Ocean City, but this is different. In Ocean City, I hit the clubs to dance. That’s it. There was never any intention to make any kind of relationship with these women. I was the safe dance date. I had some regulars, but overall, everyone was a tourist and would never see me again. I digress.

When I had to start dating, I had no idea where to start. There was no Match.com or Yahoo! Personals. I was not going to play the newspaper, telelink system (I don’t write well). So, I decided chatting was the only way I would ever get a date.

For those of you who has never chatted, this is an area of the web, where you can go and talk about totally unrelated, crude, intelligent, religious, political or anything else in real time. The format has changed over the years, but for the most part, it is the same. It is somewhat like blogging in real time (without spell check). I checked chat a short time back and they still talk a lot and never say anything.

Back to the story… I joined the Washington DC chat group and started chatting with FirstInitiaLastName_66. After trying to chat for about 5 minutes, this character “dcfish” decided that she needed to inform me that my chat handle was terrible and I should change it. Oh, maybe THAT is why everyone is ignoring me. So, I change it to MyOwnSelf (I still like that name).

Yeah! I actually had a handle. I became someone I was not! I logged in the following day and started watching. Something about chatting, when you get in a big room like that, you need to make sure that you identify the regulars to the room and make a report. I started categorizing them into Young and Stupid, Smart, In it for sex, Too old for me, Stupid Punk, Advertisement, and Pot head (those are the ones who advertise they have been arrested). I was after two categories, In it for Sex, and Smart. What? At least I am honest. When I felt I had the lay of the land, I again changed my handle to N8iv and started trolling.

DCFish is smart. Damn smart. She was really the ONLY person on the board that pulled my interest. So, I struck up a couple chat topics and looked specifically for her handle in the 4000 lines streaming across the screen every second. You have to read fast in those days. Problem was, she had been “dating” this loon in Nebraska online. I am really not sure what that was all about.

I asked her out anyhow. I figured at least I am here, schmuck is in Nebraska. Maybe she will go out with me just because of my winning personality…and modesty. I received a very rapid “no.” So, a month later when she broke up with Nebraska, I again asked to go out…No. You know, This dating thing was not really working for me. Two months into it and still nothing. Talk about take a sledge hammer to my ego…

So, after a date with one of the “In it for Sex” category, I again asked her. What seems like an eternity of lines streaming across, she says “sure.” WOOOOHOOOOO! Finally, a real date! My next thought was “now what?” In all of that time watch her chat and taking notes, I do not believe she mentioned her preference for a date. So, now in a one-on-one chat box, I asked her where she would like to go. She replied back with “you choose.” Did I mention I had just moved there? So, I asked a friend what a good club is in DC which was replied with “Coco Loco.” In the chat box I asked if Coco Loco was a good choice.

This is where my vision of her changed. She explained to me that she was not quite 21 yet. Well, there goes Coco Loco. Then the Red Alert kicked into my brain…Oh NOOO! Have I been hitting on a teenager? Bad visions flashed into my head of me in my bright orange jump suit and my roommate Bubba looking at me like I was his five cent prostitute. My next question to her was “Oh, how old are you?” 20. Whew…no jail for me.

Now I had a new dilemma, someplace to take an under 21. I remember when I first moved to DC there was this cool looking restaurant in Tyson’s Corner Mall with aquariums, night lighting and misty storm clouds. “OK, how about Rain Forest Café?”

She had no idea where that was and what it was about. Yeah! I found a place a local had not been! Bonus.

This brings me to our date night. I was working at a site in DC so I drove in that day instead of taking the usual mass transit. I had my “date clothes” with me so I could change before I left for the date. During the day, I reflected back on the checklist my wife made for me…uh oh, take a gift. Now I had a new issue, I had to find a gift. I remember that she did not like roses (that has since changed) and that her favorite flower was Lilac. Have you ever had to find Lilac in February? Do they even sell Lilac?

So as soon as work is over, the run begins. I had to find Lilac in a town I do not know well and make it to her place at 7:00. I had to first scout out her place. I hate not knowing where I am going, so I will drive to where I have to be to make sure I can get there on time. I found the place and start looking for flower shops. Mental note…there are not as many flower shops as you would like when are actually looking for flowers. I relate it to gas stations when the gas light has been on for miles.

The first flower shop had no lilacs nor TVs, nor the second, the third, or the fourth. At the fifth store, I decided that I would NEVER find lilacs and had to find a suitable substitute. I looked around the store, looked at my watch, looked around the store faster and spotted the one and only plant suitable for a date. A potted purple and pink hyancinth. It smelled delicious and looked beautiful. It was potted and in my mind that meant that it would be part of a living relationship.

I arrived early for my date. The tension was killing me so I walked as slowly as possible from the curb in front of her building to the front door and asked to be buzzed into the reception area. Now, keep in mind, I have never heard her voice nor seen a picture of her. This was truly a blind date. The next thing I hear is “Hello?” In my deepest manly man voice I say “Hi, it’s N8.” She responded with “I will be right down, wait inside.”

I am anxious, pacing and the rather large security guy behind the desk is looking me up and down like he wants to throw me back out into the street. I check my look one more time and I feel like a kid in high school waiting on his first date with “Dad” sitting behind the desk staring at me. OK, I am ready. I wait...and wait...and wait for what seems like an eternity.

The elevator dings. Nope, not her.

The elevator dings. Nope, not her again (Someone needs to duct tape the elevator bell).

I decide I better sit down before I pee my pants. Then the elevator dings, I see a young very attractive and confident woman walk up to the desk and look around (right at me even) and walk back out of sight. ACK! I have just been slammed! She saw me and RAN for the hills!

Then she came back out and smiled. It was then my soul spoke up and said “What took you so long? I have been waiting.” My mouth spoke up and said “dcfish?” I handed her the potted flower which she asked the guard to hold until she returned.

We drove out to Tyson’s Corner to have dinner. The food was OK, but the atmosphere was cool and we couldn’t stop laughing.

After, we went to go watch the planes land at the wrong airport. Apparently, that airport does not have a park by it, so we went to my apartment instead. Everything from that point on is censored. I returned her home the following morning. I haven’t had her out of my mind since.

Last night my wife (QueenSuchandSuch) had one of the book club meetings (without alcohol because it was at someone elses house). She has some sort of ear infection, so she couldn't drive. I packed the rest of the family into the spacepod and we were on our way.

Our intent was that while she was delving into the details of the the book with her mama friends, the kids and I would grab a quick bite to eat at the nearest scarf and barf.

I am not a big fan of fast food. So when the possibility came along, I was really looking to find something else. Understand, I love food. I especially love good food. I have eaten at some of the finest restaurant across the country and being in the Chicago area is a real treat because of how many truly exquisite restaurants there are.

When we arrived at restaurant row, we noticed an off-the-road joint called Golden Corra. I know, it is supposed to be Golden Corral, but the "L" was out. At this point the brain kicked in, "Hey, you can feed everyone as much as they want and the youngest is FREE!" I have to stop listening to my brain when it comes to food.

Now there is a little history with my family and buffet restaurants. We had made trips religiously to Old Country Buffet with my first wife. She felt that we could easily get our return on investment everytime. With the better, smarter wife (my current one), she HATES buffets.

There was a recent trip to Old Country Buffet that has scarred us slightly as well. My oldest daughter, was eating her rabbit food and half way through, found a ladybug. I explained to her that it WAS grown outdoors with all of the bugs and that sooner or later, if you keep eating those things, you were going to run into one in your food. I have an entire blog on vegatables and how dangerous they are that I will post another day. So, that turned my oldest off slightly to buffet restaurants.

But last night, I didn't have the oldest. So, on to Golden Corra we go.

When we walked in, the TV was running (I guess for the long line of people) and we could see it was not exactly a high class joint (as most buffets are) but you can also see the miles of buffet trays laced with food waiting for everyone to shoot up and get their fix. It was heaven.

So I paid my 39 bucks for the 3 of us (Avery was FREE), and we are off like the horses being released in the Kentucky (that one is for you PeppyAnnie) Derby. ...how often can you fit Kentucky into a blog? KY is easy, Kentucky, not so much...

I immediately hit the steak area. There is a man standing at a grill lopping off chunks of steak off of a 240 oz slab. I ask for my 64 ounces and move down to the side dishes. The vat of macaroni and cheese was already being raided by my younger child so I had to wait to receive my small portion. Next comes the green beans and carrots (after all, I am trying to eat better) so I scoop out my half-spoon of each and head to the table.

Ok, understand something here. I eat like the stereotypical male. I eat meat and potatoes and pasta. I only eat vegatables because after eating all of the good stuff, I need something to make sure it leaves my colon.

I sit and eat. By the way, as fake as the mac and cheese is, it is really good. Plate finished, I head back.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why? Why do we feel the need to go back and fill up again? Why is it we have this insatiable need to get every penny's worth of value out of the meal? Why did I need to go back through that same line 3 more times (minus the carrots and green beans)? Whoever thought up the idea was preying on the shapely and frugal. Yes, shapely, round is a shape.

I say, go back. Go back as many times as you can! Get every penny out of it and make them PAY for even thinking of the idea. Let's put them all out of business by literally eating the profits! If they raise the price enough to cover expenses, it won't be worth it to go. So eat, eat, eat like your life depends on food.

I know I ate my money's worth. Did I miss anything?

My apologies to everyone for not getting around to their blogs yesterday. I was too tired.

I am not old. I am not old. I am not old.

There...at some time my body and I seperated on what I thought was a clear understanding.

When I want to go nude cliff diving, my body agrees and we jump from the highest rock and let everything fly until the final sting of the water slapping up against my back. That is all well and good through my teenage years. At some point, between dismounting from telephone poles (yes, you can dismount telephone poles and no it is not falling) and the speed duct taping championship (I am the champion, and only contestant), my body and I came to a disagreement.

How is this possible? Aren't body and mind interlinked? Why is it I am winded climbing the stairs in my 36 story building? Of course I am sitting on the 3rd floor, but that is beside the point.

I have a theory on this. I think the pain you feel may be mistaken identity. Your brain is telling you "you can do it" and your body is doing it. But the nervous system is plotting against us for all of those times you exercised it. I think the nervous system is saying "if you do anything, I am going to tell the brain it hurts." After years of being brainwashed by the nervous system, the brain thinks "nah, that will hurt."

Think about this, when you were in your 20s (like my wife, QueenSuchandSuch) didn't you have all kinds of energy to do things like chase after children, herd cats, or have copius amounts of sex? At what point did lying in the bed become as appealing as having sex?

QSS: "Hey, do you want to have sex?"
Me: "Yeah!"
QSS: "with me?"
Me: (pregnant pause) "yeah!"
QSS: "let's go!"
Me: "Am I doing all of the work?"
QSS: "of course."
Me: "OK, where do...you...zzzzzzzzz"
QSS: "never mind, maybe Sunday."

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Isn't there a pill? We can have a pill for erectile disfunction advertized all over the TV. But we have yet to have a pill to tell the nervous system that everything is cool. Why is it I have a backache? There is really no reason for this nonsense. I was just drying myself off and POW, the nervous system told the brain "sore back."

Humanity has made some serious medical acheivements. Can't we take a pill and backup to where I could do the nude cliff diving?

I am all about warning labels. I think signs, paper, plastic, steel and rock have a purpose. Think about this. Do you really want to touch a freshly painted handrail? I appreciate every time someone places one of those signs. It is much better than having a black line permanently adhered to my beige pants. I think Stop signs, yield signs, children playing, moose crossing and quiet, deaf children playing signs are all appropriate.

What brought me to this topic? Well, yesterday on the front page of the Chicago Sun-Times I had the great pleasure of seeing this. Apparently, the local police department became really tired of having to stop people, so they said “we mean it.” If you blow by this sign, we will duct tape you to the front of a school bus.

I also think some warnings are an absolute waste of time and effort and really considers us stupid. Take for instance the container of salt (go ahead, go look) high in Sodium. Really? Damn. I was hoping for the low-sodium salt. How about the tag on the hair dryer that says, “Do not use in shower.” Huh? If I am in the shower, my intention is to get my hair wet, not try to dry. Anyone who uses a hair dryer in the shower deserves to be electrocuted. Just adding a little chlorine to the gene pool.

Being a technoweenie, I love the one I found on the instruction manual of the cordless phone, “can cause electrocution if used during a thunderstorm.” Does anyone else see a problem with this? HOW will it electrocute me? Off the 4.5V battery in the handset? We are not talking about copper wire to a handset anymore.

Some signs can be confusing though. Take for instance highway signs. Last year, the Queen hopped into the van with the kids to go visit her cousin some 1000 miles away. There is an entire story wrapped in this trip, but I don’t think Xanga has enough web space. Anyway, after I landed in San Francisco, my wife calls me to inform me she is in Missouri. After being totally baffled as to why she decided to take 4 kids on a solo trip vertically across the U.S., she asked me why the signs in Missouri never have the state highway number.

Thoroughly confused, I had her try to describe it to me. She couldn’t. It wasn’t until I flew down to rescue her (she couldn’t drive back that far), that I finally figured out what she was talking about. It was this…

I then explained to her that the state of Missouri is very closely shaped just like the thing wrapped around the number. She looked at me like she wanted to duct tape me. The number was the state road number. We laughed. Well, I laughed. (She is going to hurt me...I know it).

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). We need more signs. Why? We were in North Carolina at the Steak and Shake (a treat for us at the time). While exiting, my oldest walks straight into the freshly cleaned glass and was catapulted back into the store with hands and feet flying. If there was a sign…well, she probably would have still walked into the glass.

If there are more signs, we could have more to read while we are standing in line for our triple heart attack covered in heart attack sauce. I think restaurants should post the nutritional information on the floor in big letters. Maybe then, you will order the bunny foofoo meal instead.

Remember, “Do not eat toner” -- On a toner cartridge for a laser printer and "Do not use for drying pets." -- In the manual for a microwave oven.

There is really no point to this...just random thoughts.

I have had many heated conversations with people about what they would do if they won the big lottery (opposed to the little lottery). You would think winning a butt load of money would be a no brainer. But it really isn’t if you think about it.

Let’s run some numbers on a fairly large lottery say ($120,000,000.00) jackpot. That’s a lot of zeroes.

The distributed jackpot is $120M. That is the jackpot over 25 years. If you take the annuity, you will end up with 120 Million. If you take the cash payout, you get a hair over half. I am taking the payout.

Now, the payout is $63,000,000.00. That appears to be more than enough to buy the new house on the large amount of land, the new cars, tractor, utility company, and college for the kids. But we aren’t done yet. You see, unless you hire a really good lawyer and accountant, you are going to have relatives coming out of the woodwork you never knew you had. The lawyer will prevent the lottery from spreading you name, phone number, social security number and how many Fruit Loops that you have in your cereal bowl all over the media. The accountant will show you how to have all of his money allotted to prevent other problems such as companies your Great Grandfather had credit with 400 years coming to take your assets. So, subtract a mild 50K for them combined. It is worth it to not to have to deal with people you don’t know or don’t like.

Now, with the 50K you already owe the accountant and lawyer, you go to fill out the paperwork to transfer you winnings. When you arrive, there is this nice smiling fellow with an “I am the IRS” t-shirt standing there waiting for you to sign over another portion of those winnings. How much? A mild $30 million. But YOU hired the accountant (you are so smart) and he was able to knock it down to $24 million with the agreement that you invest $10 million into federal bonds. Look at that! He just saved you a cool $6 million. So, minus the other charges and your friends at the IRS, you walk out with $38,950,000.00.

Of course, as soon as you get home, you have to take $10M and invest it in federal bonds for 10 years. It is still your money, but you can’t really use it. OK, $28,950,000. You’re your accountant suggested you put another 15 away so you can earn money off of the interest and save for the kids college funds. YEAH! Now you can do whatever you want! We start with a party a mild $25K (of course…read QueenSuchandSuch January 4 entry). The following week, when we sober up, the purchasing begins! My wife takes $1 million and hits Target. I take another and hit the Hummer dealership for each of us…130Kx5 (what, it’s the H1), the new Bentley at 160K and a Honda Executive ride motorscooter at 10K. Cars and Target take us down to $11.9M. We have to get the east coast home and the Midwest home. The East Cost home will run about $7 Million, the Midwest home will run $2 Million. Now we are sitting around $2.9Million left. You take a few trips and it’s all gone.

Last week, you won $120 Million.

I have worked for myself and work for other people. Most of the time, working for other people is a real pain. But my boss is not so bad. He takes the blunt end of the stick from the Wicked Witch of the North, and still manages to come out the other side. I am in IT Operations. Now most of you probably have no idea what that means. Well, in a nut shell, my job is to make sure the computer systems (like your PC), the applications running on the systems (somewhat like MS Office on your home PC) and the custom applications (somewhat like your budget spreadsheet) all work, all of the time. The difference between you managing your home PC and me managing my systems is kind of like having a roll of duct tape that can reach the moon. My “spreadsheet” is measured in hundreds of billions of dollars. My “MS Office” requires about 30 employees to keep it running. My “PC” requires 15 clothes dryer outlets and 120 standard home outlets. The main difference is you can turn your PC off. I can’t. Mine have to be up every minute of every hour of every day of every year. Non-stop.

So, when there is a problem with the “spreadsheet”, I have to well, lets just say, it will be easier to go to the doctor on my 40th birthday. The Wicked Witch and one of her flying monkeys tend to take any issue and throw it completely out of proportion.

For example:

Wicked Witch: What does this mean? Does this mean we are not able to add? How does my hair look?

Flying Monkey: No, Wicked Witch. This means that the booming voice of doom is going to keep you up all night thinking about this. This is serious! Your hair is a mess.

Wicked Witch: Well let’s go get the little dog and put it on my head so it can cover my hair.

Toto (My boss): Yes your greenness?

Wicked Witch: Get on my head…oh, and is it true that the world will end because of this problem with the spreadsheet?

Toto: Um, No and No. Why would you believe something from a flying monkey who knows diddly squat about what my group does?

Wicked Witch: Oh, OK. The flying monkey has been here for ever. How does my hair look?

Toto: Looks great. The problem only affects one part of the spreadsheet. It is not vital and we can live without it. Now, hop on your broom and go.

My boss is good but has his downfalls. He is a closet procrastinator. Today I was told to provide him a years worth of information on all of my employees. He informs me this morning at 8. He has to have it by the end of the day. He needs numbers by 10:30 for a meeting with the Wicked Witch.

Now, I knew this was coming, so it is not a big surprise. But I try to follow a protocol. I do what I am told, when I am told as to not upset Toto. I had completed a majority of the request, just not all of it. So, when he asked for it, I had to finish a few and send them on their merry way.

Planning for this often is circumvented by real work. As much as I appreciate the paperwork aspect of my job, people actually require me to do real work. So while I was on the phone with the Tin Man, I received an email stating “Where’s my number’s on The Wizard?” Well, he just happened to pick the one I had yet to complete.

My response went something like this. “You just transferred the Wizard to me a couple months ago. Can you send me what you have so far on him?”

Do you ever have email that you send and it is sort of like when you pick up a ringing phone to hear dial tone? That’s what I received. A blank form. Hmm…

This brings me to my point (as I always have one). Push your work onto someone ELSE! Why do it yourself when you can pass it off on the perfectionist to do. If he does it wrong, well, that is HIS fault. Always wait until the last minute so he will surely fail. If you really want to get rid of this stooge, don’t even tell him you gave him the task and say he didn’t complete it. He will LOVE THAT! Ok, I need to go delegate.

This is a long one…Sorry.

I have been working in the information technology industry for over 21 years now. I have seen the ups and downs of the field and understand it as a whole fairly well. A co-worker of mine I will call V-Jack, has been in the industry since Star Trek was still running as original programming.

During my time, I have contributed to companies “improving” their processes and procedures by transitioning the pen and paper to the new, high speed, high productivity computer. The conversions save time, money, and make it easier for everyone.

But does it? At what point did we decide that computers were going to replace humans? Let’s go back in time to 1978 (when my wife was born). If you walked into an office, you would hear the click, click of a typewriter. A secretary would write down via shorthand a letter or memo and was expected to complete 3 or 4 letters per day along with the other paperwork that needed to be completed. She was expected to make sure the boss signs paperwork on time, line up telephone calls and meetings, sit on his lap and get him coffee. That pretty much burnt up the entire day.

Now, the boss actually lines up his own meetings using the email system, sends memos via email, and has the online webcam sit in his lap. He still has the “administrative assistant” provide the coffee. I will delve into name changes another day. The boss now receives an email when he needs to “sign” something.

Companies spend trillions of dollars per year on computer technology and support services. There is so much work that work visas have been issued like mad for people to come support all of the computers. Computers have made it so I can sit here in my Spongebob under…jeans and a t-shirt, and buy and sell stuff online or blog. Entire words have been created thanks to computers such as the verbs Google and E-bay.

Companies now consider computers a vital resource and on top of purchasing the initial computer, purchase a disaster recovery set of computers. This means, if their initial computer network is caught on fire by the 12 year old kid managing them, they can flip a “switch” and be back in business in minutes. So, why would I look down on an industry that would provide me everything I have earned? Because, some time or another, we lost humanity.

About 10 years ago, I walked into the Cambridge, Maryland Arbys to purchase my regular heart attack on a bun slathered in heart attack sauce. They no longer carry that sandwich and it makes me sad. Anyway, when I walked up to the counter, nobody stood behind it. My first thought was, “ahem… hello? Hello? Are you going to take my order or what?” Then I noticed it. The registers were all facing the wrong way. They were facing the customer, not the imaginary person behind the counter. That was the point I thought “HOW COOL!” So, I worked my way through the menu’s and options and ordered my food. It was brought to me by a gentleman with a smile thinking “I am glad I don’t have to talk to you anymore, your breath stinks.” My local BP uses the same methodology.

This brings me to my point (as I always have one). Did we make a huge mistake? Are we coming to the point where we don’t need humans? Entire science fiction books and Star Trek episodes have been written about computer taking over the world.

Let me explain what I see as the mistake. If we go back to the 1978 time frame, companies had dozens of people, correcting grammar, spelling, typing, and placing stamps on letters and envelopes. Now to do the SAME amount of work, we can use a single person on a word processor from their computer, which will “autocorrect” the grammar and spelling, and then send it to the print center that prints the letter, sticks it into an envelope, and places a “stamp” on it. What used to take 10 people to do, costing the company about 10 salaries, now takes 1 person. But not really, you see the equipment costs money, the computers cost money and it takes 3 people to maintain the equipment and computers. Yes, you have reduced the staff for the same work, but at what cost?

Weren’t computers intended to make life easier for people? Yes, it made life easier, but now we expect them to produce more. That same secretary is required to make 15 letters, line up 4 teleconference systems, and provide coffee. What would have happened if we kept the same work requirements and gave people the tools to make life easier? People would have more free time and enjoy life (very Star Trek-like). Wouldn’t it be nice if we could employ everyone?

Today, if the computer network or cash register crashes, everyone stops working. Lets think back to 2002. When the big power outage hit half of Canada and the entire northeast portion if the United States companies, restaurants, convenient stores, every one, shut down. In 1978, companies would whip out their pens and paper and (get this) WRITE down your orders. They would use a pen and paper to (ready?) add your bill up and store the money in a metal box. If the power went out, they would break out the manual typewriters instead of the electric ones.

Lastly, we have lost customer service. By providing punch in your own order cash registers, we no longer have someone to actually be able to take the blunt of your anger. It is not like you can duct tape the computer to the ceiling because it won’t answer your question. If you want to ask for a special order, the person behind the counter making your sandwich looks at you with the “why are you talking to me” face. I guess you could duct tape them, but then you don’t know what your sandwich will have on it. Is it really mayo?

As I sit here on my very expensive laptop, I propose we all go back to pen and paper. Instead of having entire computer system backing up the computer systems, let’s have storage lockers with cases of pens, paper and duct tape. And instead of buying all of those secondary computers, try to actually HIRE people to know how to use these archaic devices.

As I age, I am looking for easier ways to keep a healthy heart. Surprisingly enough, most people, adults and children alike, already know the best method is through beans. I love beans. Why, you ask, are we discussing beans? Because…beans, beans are good for your heart! The more you eat, the more you fart. The more you fart, the better you feel, so eat your beans with every meal.

Yesterday, I read a blog about a Mother’s challenge to have her 11 year old girl stop farting and laughing all of the time. These are real life body functions and people are suppressing them. Everybody farts (unless they are no longer living).

Why do we fart? Well, there are multiple reasons: we swallow air, gas seeping from the blood to the intestines, and gas from chemical reactions in the digestive tract. But the biggest reason for the great gas passage is from bacteria. You have bacteria in your intestines that produce gas as part of the breakdown process of the food you eat. Some foods breakdown better than others and create a higher gas volume. If you do NOT let one loose every so often, then you are not treating your gastrointestinal tract with the care and respect it needs.

What brings me to this topic? Last night while watching CSI or Without a Trace (exact time unknown), my wife (QueenSuchAndSuch) let off the earth shaker. I thought for sure she was going to wake up the kids. When she didn’t, I responded in kind. She says I am too competitive. Most of the time when she cuts one loose (which happens quite often), it raises the sheets and shakes the bed and that’s about it. However, there have been times when the green cloud of doom has managed to escape from the tightly wrapped sheets and not only do I have to do a duck and cover, but so does she. Those are the times when you think “Where’s my duct tape?”

Let’s talk about gas etiquette if there is such a thing. When you are in your own home, a bathroom, or even in your own car (by yourself), cut it. What I don’t suggest is cutting the cheese with your wife and kids in the car. There are times in the minivan, with all windows opened, has caused my gag reflex to go off.

Even doing it outside does not mean you are immune to the after-effects. There have been those times when you are walking on the sidewalk and the guy who crossed your path cut one loose and you could still smell it 2 minutes later.

Don’t break wind in the elevator. I hate that. I walked into the elevator all unsuspecting to go up 5 floors. After I entered and the doors closed and I noticed the rather pungent scent wafting in the very small inescapable lift. It is at this point, I was willing to duct tape MYSELF up. So, I held my breath...for an entire floor, when someone else walks on to the upward bound elevator.

Now, I am faced with a dilemma. Do I exit the elevator, knowing full well that the new occupant is going to blame the fart on me, or do I stay on the elevator (while still holding my breath) and try to brush it off with small talk and save face? Maybe, he doesn’t smell it….maybe, he doesn’t have a nose. I stayed on taking short, shallow breatha to prevent getting a good whiff.

This brings me to my point (as I always have one). Why doesn’t the government intervene on this situation? You are now thinking “Huh?” People are not allowed to pee and poo in public, but when it comes to floating microparticles of bile and methane gas (yes, it is flammable…but it burns the butt hairs when lit, so don’t do it), they have no problem. I suppose there are challenges to policing the N8ivWarrior Stop Farting Act, but they always seem to find some sort of Gestapo method and it probably involves duct tape. Let's make it so that when you go to get your driver's license, you are handed a year’s supply of Beano.

Of course, some people would be exempt from this new proposed law such as pregnant people (pregnant women seem to fart continuously while walking) and people with diagnosed intestinal problems. But they could be assigned a farting waiver. OK, so maybe making a law for it is a stretch, but for Pete’s sake, don’t do it in confined spaces.

If anyone has ever read “The DiVinci Code”, they stated that English is the language of science and math. My first ever Xanga post was about how we (the American public) kill the English language. Well, what about the other point of view; how the English language is so stupid and easy to kill?

What scientist or mathematician would think to make a language which is without consistency? Let me start with a few small examples:

Plural forms…

The plural for more than one mouse is mice. The plural for more than one house is… houses.
The plural for can is cans. The plural for man is men.
Goose is geese and moose is moose (this one really get my goats).
Not even Latin rooted words are immune… cactus plural is cacti, but bonus is bonuses.

I could go on for days about plural forms; but I am typing and that would make my fingers sore. They may have the same spelling and pronunciation, but the plural form differs from word to word. Goose and moose are both nouns, both animals, both with the same pronunciation. So why in the world would they be spelled different?

Pronunciation or heteronyms…
One of my favorites is Lead. Lead LEED- to guide; LED- a metallic element.
How about Pussy (get your head out of the gutter), Pussy PUHSee- having pus; POOHSee; a kitten.
How about Sow SOUW- a pig; SO- to plant seed?
How confusing is the sentence, “I have a tear?” Tear TARE- to rip, a rip; TEER- fluid in eye.
How many times do you read a book and come across a word you are not sure about or you have sounded it out only to find out that the pronunciation is incorrect?

Common pronunciation mistakes…

Corps pronounced KOR-. The United States Marine Corps. A corpse KORPS- is a dead body. I don’t think the Marines want you to call them all dead.
An omen OH-MEN- is a prophetic sign. An Amen AH-MEN- is the Egyptian god of life and reproduction, represented as a man with a ram's head, and an amen AE-MEN- or AH-MEN- is used at the end of a prayer.

Other grammatical mistakes

Duct tape is a tape commonly sold in hardware stores was created to mend and repair ventilation ducts (although I have about 15,000 other purposes for it). Duck tape is either medical tape designed for the water fowl (not foul), or is tape made from duck skin.
Jury-Rig (one of my pet peeves) is to assemble with duct tape until you can truly fix it. There is no such thing as Gerry-rig.

This brings me to my point (as I always have one), Why don’t we just create the American Language? Do you know that America does not have a national language? Some states have languages, but the U.S. as whole does not. When we make this language, let’s take part of the English we already know and convert it to make sense. Let’s make a pig, a pig and not a sow. A great majority of the United States already speaks English so converting to American would not be too much of a stretch.

The reason the American government did not adopt a national language in the past was for the “respect” for the immigrants and to bring more people from other countries into the U.S. without requiring them to learn a new language. Now we have customs processes, schools that the primary mission is to teach English as a second language, and pocket translators. I think it is time.

In Lakota Sioux, Hau/Han, hinhani kin wacin yakin kte. For all you English speakers that means, OK, I will see you tomorrow.