Archive for the ‘The sickness’ Category

Surgical Bitch

Dad goes in tomorrow to have his back opened up to repair some serious problems. Should be a four hour surgery and at least four months off of work.

The doctors have told him all of his other surgeries will seem like walk in the park compared to this one, so you know, he’s got that going for him.

It seems there is a new practice happening where the surgeon initials the patient in a pre op appointment, which is supposed to decrease the possibility of operating on the wrong person. Seems silly but ok. Well since they will be operating on his back, he now has the initials MK suspiciously written on his lower back. The look is similar to that of a lower back tattoo or “tramp stamp” as they have been called in the past, which led my father to declare to his sister that he now “belongs to the doctor.”

So his sense of humor will see him through we guess!



Turtle Humping & The Ladies of Beantown

For the record, the desire to comment extensively on both of these pictures was very hard to resist, I promise you…



But that’s hardly newsworthy, right? They’re perfect. They aren’t doctored, they’re just quick moments that scream to be shared.

More newsworthy? How about that I’m digging the cute NPR addicted Obama Mama redhead who sent them to me because she thought I’d enjoy the subtle juvenile humor… good work I say! I’ve got something I been meaning to give her since the last time we hung out. We’ll call it a trade.


FYI, the original title of this post, “Hookers and Turtle Porn” was changed once I considered the searches it’d show up on and the disappointed looks on those one handed typers when they got to these pics!


‘Nuff Said

Dream World

Rarely do I have dreams that I remember… well, rarely do I have dreams that I remember that aren’t foretelling in someway. I’m sure I dream like everyone else as far as frequency, but usually they don’t resonate in my head long enough to remember them.

This is not one of those dreams. It’s a completely garbled tangle of absurdity, which I will layout for you now. Below is my original description of last nights befuddlement.

For some reason I was in WalMart on Election Day. I was hanging out with a bunch of people from work and I guess we thought we had to go to WalMart to vote. Well, we get there and turns out the local Wally World was not the polling place. It was the Best Buy across the street. It was obviously late in the night as we ran across five lanes of traffic and along another parking lot to get to the Best Buy before they closed. We got there and were pounding on the doors yelling for them to let us in so we could vote.

Finally the cat at Best Buy felt bad for us and let us in, but all the lights were off so we had to be walked over the to the plasma screens by hand and get voting instructions on how to vote in the dark. Then when we finished, I handed my little hand held voting machine to a guy I recognized from my days out west, and who I know lives in California. Well of course we struck up a conversation and the people behind me started getting antsy because they were sure their votes weren’t going to get counted.

Now how is that for odd? Presidential polling at WalMart? Rushing to vote before the store closes? Being let in by a flippin’ cat?

I don’t have a clue about the meaning of this dream.

I can tell you I was aware it was weird while it was happening. I was somewhat in control because I remember the hand-held voting thing changing shape from the first time I looked at it and the way it looked when I handed it over to my friend from California. I wouldn’t say I was lucid, but I remember influencing the dream a little, though I’m not sure why or to what extent that control actually reached. Let’s face it, I was trying to vote at WalMart and I talked a cat into opening the door at Best Buy… Crazy what the mind can do.

Any deep ideas from the peanut gallery?

I personally think I got too much sleep.

Have to fix that.


I May Have Created a Monster

Ok, so maybe not a monster… but, I did set my Mom up with StumbleUpon.

Not sure how good of an idea this really is, but I’ve used it for a couple years and always liked it so why not. I told her it would make it harder for her to get to sleep. She laughed a little like I was crazy for thinking that, but I know from experience. She played with it a bit, asked me to send instructions to install it to my aunt in Ohio and then announced shes not going to get anything done tomorrow.

Pretty sure she was kidding, but you never know.

One of these days I’ll sneak on and change all of her settings to “Adult Content” just for giggles. She’d likely try to disown me then, but Dad would think that was HILARIOUS.


The Voices

So I was listening to my music library tonight and I went on a streak I thought was pretty damn cool. That little run got me to thinking, “Who is it I really like listening to?” Not the band, not the music, but the voices, who is it that has something that makes you sit back, or stand up, and listen. The song and the music may not have even been that good, but that voice grabs at you. With a little help, thanks Devlin, here is “The List“. In no particular order, these are in my library somewhere.  Agree? Disagree? Have some additions?

Alison Krauss

Johnette Napolitano of Concrete Blonde

Amos Lee

Ani DiFranco

Amy Lee of Evanescence

Darius Rucker of Hootie & The Blowfish

Miranda Lambert

Natalie Maines of Dixie Chicks

Sarah Brightman

Louis Armstrong

Adam Duritz of Counting Crows

Anna Nalick

Marc Roberge of O.A.R. (Of a Revolution)

Eva Cassidy

Nina Simone

Jack Johnson

Kevin Martin of Candlebox

Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland

Scott Anderson of Finger Eleven

Sarah McLachlan

John Denver

Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam

Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty

Damien Rice

Todd Park Mohr of Big Head Todd and The Monsters


Norah Jones

Tracy Chapman

Ella Fitzgerald

Michael Stipe of REM

Dobie Gray

Marc Cohn

Terri Nunn of Berlin

Amy Ray and Emily Sailers of Indigo Girls

Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac

Shirley Manson of Garbage

Patty Griffin

Chrissy Hynde of The Pretenders

David Gray

Sarah Dugas of The Duhks


Chris Martin of Coldplay


Diana Krall

Madeleine Peyroux

Ray Charles


Ed Kowalczyk of LIVE

Annie Lennox

Al Green

John Mayer

Emiliana Torrini

Bono of U2

Melissa Etheridge


Joann Armatrading

Robin Hackett

Gemma Hayes

Chris Daughtry of Daughtry

Sophie B. Hawkins

Edie Brickell

Adam Levine of Maroon 5

John Hiatt

Joss Stone

Katie Melua

Paul Thorn

China Forbes of Pink Martini

Regina Spektor

Rosie Thomas

Siobhan Fahey of Shakespears Sister and Bananarama

Aaron Lewis of Staind

Steve Earle

Sylvie Lewis

Nina Persson of The Cardigans

Dolores O’Riordan of The Cranberries

Shannon Hoon of Blind Melon

Jack White of The White Stripes

Cat Power

Erin Moran of A Girl Called Eddy

Natalie Merchant

Ok… thats a start…


Yield for Stupid

I don’t TRY to be an assbag, I just happen to be good at it when prompted…

Friday night I broke my glasses. My fault, I set them on the dash of the truck and took a corner and then whoosh, out the corner they went. Ok. Won’t be doing that again.

Today I make my way to the local Wally World to get my exam and new pair of glasses ordered. So far so good, a rather pleasant day and I ended up paying like $68 bucks for a $300 pair of glasses. And then I left, which is where the fun started.

Here, like every Wally World I would imagine, there are three striped pedestrian crossing zones, with a yield sign at each end, each one about fifty feet long. When I made it to the yield sign, there was no one in the pedestrian crossing and no one walking at a pace that I judged as putting them in the “Danger Zone” coming in or out. If they were breathing adults with half a brain they could see me and for their own safety stop as to not be run over by the big red truck. I’m cruising through the zone at all of like three miles an hour and, I shit you not, with not FIVE feet left in the crossing zone, when I drive past a couple (who I can best describe as a pear and a pixie stick embodied) and then I watch in my rear view mirror as the pear gives me the finger and starts jawing. Oh, you want to play… ok.

Now, what I should have done was just laugh it off. But, well, I didn’t.

Screech! You can squelch tires to a halt even at a snails pace. I put the car in park, and hop on out and ask in what I consider a pretty mellow tone for having just been given the bird, “Is there a problem?”

“You didn’t f*ckin’ see me? You almost f*ckin hit me. You could have stopped, it’s PEDESTRIAN crossing, you prick. You sonofabitch! What a stupid f*ck!” she spouts off through her toothless mouth to me and looking to her man for reassurance that his ass was up to cashing the check her mouth was about to write. For the record, he looked straight ahead like aww shit, not again.

“Yeah, it’s pedestrian crossing with a yield sign, waaaaaay ass back there, and when I yielded, there were no pedestrians. That means I can go. See how this works? It’s not real complicated when you think about it.”

Apparently she did not see how this works, or she wasn’t able to think about it and proceeded to let me know all of the things I could do to myself sexually, some of which I think are actually impossible, but interesting all the same. Allllllllrighty then…

“So is it my fault you couldn’t waddle your fat ass up here any quicker or is it my fault for misjudging your momentum and your ability to stop when you saw the MOTOR F*CKING VEHICLE coming?” I ask, still maintaining more of a smartass tone than a dickhead one.

Now her scrawny man decides to let me know, “You can’t talk to a lady like that!”

I continue being a smartass and take an exaggerated look around 360 degrees, then back at the woman who appears to be smuggling ham hocks in her sweatpants, you know the one with a mouth like a sailor, and let him know, “I know you aren’t talkin’ ’bout her. SHE gives ME the finger and starts shoutin’ about how I effin’ this and I effin’ that, I’ll speak how I’m spoken to, understand? If a lady shows up, I’ll bite my tongue and I’ll probably be the only one.” Oops, a little dickhead came out.

“I got your license plate,” she pipes up, now doing a little head bobbing and hand waving.

“Good. Call the cops. Maybe they’ll give me a ticket for you being f*ckin’ stupid, but since it’s private property don’t get your hopes up. Jesus… I hope to f*ck you haven’t bred, this place already has more stupid than it can handle.” I finish as I shake my head and get back into the truck listening to her spew more things unsuitable for print. As I drive away I wave, with all my fingers, to the pear and the pixie stick and the greeter who has made his way out of the building to see what’s happening.

Just goes to further my belief that Wally World might actually be the downfall of civilization as we know it and is certainly a gathering site for local inbreds.

Which is why I try really, really, REALLY hard not to shop there.