Constellations...

Just returned from camping with the in-laws at Odell Lake! More on camping later, but just wanted to share a little about our family's new hobby...geocaching. A friend of mine recently introduced me to geocaching and we're all hooked. Kid3 calls it "Treasure Hunting", which is pretty accurate, although the "treasures" generally have no value other than the satisfaction of the search and find. It's great fun. Learn more about it at www.geocaching.com.

Anyway, Kid1 and I went in search of a couple of caches that had recently been placed and we were hoping to be the "First to Find" (aka FTF), which is kind of a big deal to geocachers. After parking at Gold Lake, we began the 1/2 mile hide towards Marilyn Lake. Everything was going well as we reached the coordinates for "Marilyn Lake 1". According to the GPS, we were within 2 feet of the cache, but we couldn't locate it. Bummer. Then we decided to walk another 3/4 of a mile toward "Marilyn Lake 2" to try and locate it. Again, no luck. Oh well, at least we had a nice hike through nature. And then...the fun begins.

During the trek back to the car, I stepped off the trail into a knee-deep muddy bog and promptly lost a shoe. It wasn't long before both Kid1 and I were covered in mud and still no shoe. We decided then to just head the final 3/4 mile back to the car. But first, I ingeniously decided to try and clean off some of the mud (mostly to keep the Bride from killing me) in the scenic and undisturbed Marilyn Lake. Curiously enough, I also managed to wash off all of the mosquito repellent applied back at camp. Now I was a one-shoed tenderfoot, with no deterrent for the bastard a-hole of all insects and 3/4 of a mile from my car with only woodland forest trails and a gravel road between. No problem. I'm tough.

Well, now I'm covered in what can only be described as a Milky Way of itchy mosquito bites. Great. Just great.

For the record, I have not been deterred from geocaching by any stretch of the imagination (In fact, I successfully found 2 more the following day, including one that provided a breathtaking view of Odell Lake.), but I did want to offer the following packing list for when you decide to try geocaching.

1. Extra insect repellent
2. Extra shoes
3. A raft would be nice
4. Better yet, bring a jet pack just in case you lose both pairs of shoes.
5. More insect repellent
6. Tent and sleeping bags in case you get lost.
7. An air mattress as well.
8. Food for you and your woodland visitors.
9. A map
10. Bug spray

There you go! Try geocaching, but make sure you're prepared!

Updates...

Just a quickie tonight. Ahh...who am I kidding...it probably won't be. Here's a few thoughts on some things happening here, there, everywhere.

1. The Church Shootings. WTF?!? I'm serious, here. When are we as a country going to open our eyes and realize that the fundamental extremists we're all so scared of live right here in America? I understand that these are crazy times. I get that. I'm absolutely certain that we're not out of the woods yet. But still...People are being killed for being too liberal? Or because they worship at too liberal a Christian Church? What? Why? No...I don't understand.

Fundamental extremism is bad. Period. Plain and simple. I don't care if it's in the Middle East or here. It's bad and it's wrong and it has to be stopped. Honestly, I'm scared.

2. Finally watched the ESPY Awards. Wow, church shootings to a sports and entertainment award show...classy, Fun Sponge, classy. Anyway, the ESPYs were good. They were hosted by Justin Timberlake. That dude is seriously talented. He must be. He's survived a ton of crap. Survived being a Mousketeer. Survived being with Britany. Survived being in a boy band. Survived Cameron Diaz. Survived Nipple-Gate. How could someone go through all that and be more popular than ever? Talent. That guy is pretty freaking cool in my book. And he golfs.

Beckham and Posh were in the front row of the ESPYs. Beckham won best soccer player. Whatever. He's not. Timberlake gave them appropriate mention throughout the show.

I gotta say, Posh is always getting hell from the tabloids about how she never smiles. You know, it's not even that. Not only does she not smile. Posh makes some pretty awful faces. Downright bitchy facial expressions. I saw at least three from the ESPYs that were just horrible. To be fair, she did smile a few times during the show, but she always seemed to cover it up with her hand. I've got three possible solutions as to why she doesn't show emotion for the camera. You pick which is most plausible.

A. She's shy or embarrasses easily.

B. She has bad teeth. Lots of Brits do, so why not her?

C. She's got some odd social disorder.

I'm going with "C" here. My guess is she'll be the next Liz Taylor or Michael Jackson. Spooky.

Let's see...3. Yep. Just checked. It's 3.

3. Do you like fantasy sports? I do. Not too much. Just a league at a time. It's too hard to keep up with more than that. Unless I didn't have a job. Huh. Wait a minute. I don't have a job. I'm actually pretty good at these fantasy sports leagues. Is that a career? Can I work my way up through the ranks of fantasy and get a real job on a professional sports team?

Anyway, I have a fantasy sports blog. It originally was about just one league, but I may turn it into one about lots of leagues or players or whatever. When I remember what it is called I'll link to it!

Oh, and I don't play fantasy golf. I can still play real golf, thank you very much.

4. Olberman rocks. You should be watching his show on MSNBC. It's every bit as well written as The Daily Show and Colbert Report, but it's also factual.

5. Fantasy Water Polo League?!? Why is it, that when you put "water" after "fantasy" it all of the sudden sounds dirty?

5a. Olympics are coming. Ugh. They're in China. I swear to God, if NBC spends too much time talking about how horrible the smog in China is, I'll puke. Those bastards should try coming here to the Basin. I'll bet our air quality here is worse per capita than there. Maybe not, but it's a lot closer than it should be. NBC should be use China's bad air to segue to a feature about poor air quality here at home.

Despite NBC spending too much time on BS about anything other than the athletic competitions, I'll watch. I always do. The Olympics are special to me. I can say without question, the one thing I wish above nearly all other "sports related" pipe dreams of mine, that I would most love to win a gold medal. I'd be freaking bawling up there. Serious. It would be awesome!

My favorites are water polo, swimming, gymnastics, sometimes diving. Same with track and field.

Finally. 6. Back to the ESPYs. Some softball players from Central Washington and Western Oregon won a big award for their sportsmanship in helping the player from the other team get around the bases after hitting the winning home run and tearing ligaments in her knee. That's why I love sports. That's why. Nice job people. That's the kind of world I want to live in. That's something to believe in.

6a. The local Shilo Inn has a reader board that usually just displays the fact that they're hiring a catering manager...still. Today's was AWESOME! It said. "Welcome Hamsters". That's it. I hope it's some HAM Radio Club meeting, because I don't think I can handle some kind of "Hamster Convention" or "Hamster Show". That would be too much.

HAMSTER-CON 2K8!!!

No wonder the terrorists hate us. W is Wrong. W always says that "the terrorists hate our freedom", aw shucks. No. The terrorists hate what we do with our freedom. I believe David Cross said that.

7. David Cross is BRILLIANT! Get Mr. Show from Netflix. It's the funniest show ever.

Welcome Back Steve!

My friend Steve at the Sneeze is back! Big YAY! for that!!! Technically we've never met, but I missed him so that makes us friends. That's how my now 5-year-old son explained "new" friends to me while we were camping. See, Kid3 had some "new" friends for me to meet. So we went on the best bike ride ever and I got to meet his new "friends".

If you've never been to Honeyman State Park Campground south of Florence, Oregon (on the amazing Oregon Coast with the most amazing sand dunes you'll ever see, I promise...), you really ought to go. There's tons of things to do and you will truly never forget the experience. But, I digress...

Kid3 and I carefully rode our bikes (mine: the friend's never-ridden bicycle, far too small for a man of my build in life; and his: with the somehow comforting squeak of a far-too-relied-upon training wheel), up our "loop" to his first "secret" spot. Parking our bikes, we climbed up an obvious path to a beautiful large clearing completely encircled by trees. (It reminded me of the very disturbing scene of the pagan worship festival from the movie Dragnet with the goat head dudes. Except I think that happened in LA, so well, nevermind. If you saw the movie, you'll undoubtably remember that scene and this seemed like the kind of place that could have been filmed.) Despite my fears, Kid3 charged right to the middle and held out his arms wide and kinda yelled, "These are my friends, Dad!" He meant the trees. And I asked him how they were his friends, and he said it was because he missed them when he was at our campsite, so they must be friends. It was freaking AWESOME!! What a kid!

And then we just listened. And the wind blew gently through the amphitheatre of trees, and they were his friends, and I, at that very moment, I discovered nature. It was the best moment of millions of best moments I had with him that day!

~~~~~

So, Steve's really back. Go check out his website. Seriously. Do it. I'm not kidding. Do it from HERE, or even HERE. He's been gone for awhile, but visit his site anyway and catch up on some of his older entries. It's seriously some of the all-time most hilarious blogging you'll ever read.

Here's one of his all-time bests in my opinion. It's from the whole "cake decorating" series. For now, just read this one portion of that story and you will forever be addicted to The Sneeze. Enjoy!

~~

Oh, yeah, camping. It was great! We went up to Heceta Head Lighthouse (Note to self: get pics off digital before Kid4 deletes them.) and went on the tour. It's a half-mile hike up to the lighthouse proper and the walk isn't too steep with plenty of resting opportunities along the way. After the tour (Note to you: if you go, there are 58 steps along the actual "lighthouse" portion of the lighthouse tour. If you get the tour guide we got he'll probably give your kid a sticker for answering correctly. Kid3 smartly counted all the steps we took along the tour, even asking if it "counted" when I shifted my weight from one foot to the other while standing just below the still-working light, lens and clockwork. Fortunately for Kid3 I had only counted the stairs during the "tower" portion of the tour.) Kid3 and I raced back down the hill to meet My Bride and Kid4, who apparently awoke from his nap 10 minutes after we left.

One quick thing...If you want to be a sailor or a lighthouse builder, I think you have to know Trigonometry. See kids...there's your practical, "real world" use for math. You can be a lighthouse operator.

~~~~

The campground time of our vacation was probably the best, though. We did have a reasonably large group of neighbors that occupied 4 or more sites around ours. With the lone exception of the "International One Night Stand" site, we were completely surrounded by them. Sadly, they were there our entire vacation. It's not that they were that bad. I've certainly probably been worse myself, but still. It was clear that they weren't the ONLY people in the campground and they still behaved as though we were camping in their backyard, not a State Park.

I guarantee that the following will sound much worse than I mean it too, but I don't know how else to put this. So, if someone actually reads this blog and can think of a better comparison or at least a nicer way to put it, please let me know. Anyway, these neighbors of ours were like NASCAR people. You know the ones I'm talking about. Loud, obnoxious, rude, kinda redneck. Them. Oh, man, I hope that's not somehow racist. I don't have any kind of "real" problem with them, I'd just prefer to not hang around them. Just as I'm sure they'd probably not want to hang around my liberal ass. We simply don't have much in common. That's really all it is.

Maybe it's sortakinda like they sing in Avenue Q, "...everyone's a little bit racist..."

So, they were kind of annoying. Big deal. They mostly figured it out over the course of the week and we all got along. I guess that's kinda the chance you take when you decide to camp at the very large, very busy, and very ATV-friendly Honeyman. Yep, ATV people are NASCAR people too. So are Jeff Foxworthy fans.

Huh. Go figure. Well, maybe next year we'll be the larger group and people will probably despise us. Except you know if I'm there, it'll probably be drums and Kumbaya and whatnot instead of NASCAR.

We really did have a great time. And, to be honest, since this was Kid3 and Kid4's first time kinda primitive camping with us, this louder, busier park was probably the perfect one for us. Somehow, I didn't feel bad if Kid4 cried during the night, especially after they spent most evenings making some poor, sugar-fueled pre-teen girl with an unbelievably horrendous laugh, cackle uncontrollably at a barage of stupid jokes. That kid may never have a boyfriend if she doesn't change her laugh.

~~~

Other highlights of the vacation were:

Fiddy and MrsFiddy's wedding on the 5th of July, 2008! Congrats...we love you guys!

Picking up Kid1 and Kid2 from Lutherwood! The only way camping would have been better was if they were with us! That and the wind could've stopped blowing. I realize it's the beach, but seriously.

Campfire War! Submit your reader variations of this classic card game! Our version requires one deck of standard cards, two chairs, a warm fire, probably some blankets next time, sweatshirts and two people! Family rules dictate that any dropped card by a player, result in the forfeiture of 5 of their randomly selected cards plus the dropped card to the other player. TBD if that rule applies for Multi-Player Campfire War (which has so far never been played). Other rules include, a "War" when two cards match during a face off. "War" is comprised of two extra cards and a showdown with the third extra card. Winner take all. Surprisingly, no match lasted very long, with Bride taking 2 out of 3. Ooh...another rule...if at any time (after the first "hands" are fully played out) both players run out of cards in their "hand" simultaneously, the game is automatically over. Winner in Campfire War will always be determined by an eye-ball measure of each players "stack" or if one player collects all the cards. There's one more that Bride let me add. Jokers are in play. Jokers beat anything in a face-off, but lose if they are the displayed card to end a "War".

Which reminds me. Do you play a lot of cribbage? If you do, you may like what my friend Ogden and I invented while ice fishing in Canada. Doesn't "ice fishing in Canada" sound like a code or a really bad euphemism? It does to me. Anyway, it's called "Extreme Cribbage" and it pretty much is cribbage with the two jokers added. You'll kind of have to make up your own rules, but the Jokers are "wildcards" and they can be any value, but once you play it during the "pegging" part of the game, that is the value for the Joker during the "counting" or "scoring" part of the game for that hand or round. If the Joker is displayed as the "starter" or "cut card", then it is wild for both players and can be any value.

Let me just say a couple of things.

1....This game is not easy drunk or sober. It's like billiards and darts.

2....Just be warned, 29 is no longer the best hand. It's an amazing update to an already great game. Oh, and the games can be over really fast if the Jokers get into play.

3....Can anyone think of a better name than "Extreme Cribbage"? Let me know.

You Should Buy This Album

Check out The Weepies. They're phenomenal!

Compassion...

I read this today.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070613/ap_on_re_us/whale_shark_dies

I know, good for me...I can read. Seriously though, why is euthanasia even an issue for any of God's creatures, including humans? Sure, we've been given dominion over the animals (if you read your bible word-for-word literally...I don't, and I'm willing to bet that you don't either, even if you think you do...but that's for another post), so it seems simple enough for us to make life or death choices for this helpless whale shark; that race horse, Barbaro; or our beloved family pet. But, then we get all up in arms when it comes to making the same decisions for humans. Why?

This quote is from the article:

"after every option had been exhausted to improve Norton's health, the team made the decision to humanely euthanize him," the aquarium said.

Did you read that? "...humanely euthanize..." "HUMANE"???? What's that? How can that be? How can we treat animals humanely, but not humans?

Here's the definition from our good friends at Dictionary.com:

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source
hu·mane /hyuˈmeɪn or, often, yu-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[hyoo-meyn or, often, yoo-] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective
1. characterized by tenderness, compassion, and sympathy for people and animals, esp. for the suffering or distressed: humane treatment of horses.
2. of or pertaining to humanistic studies.


So, there you have it. Humane treatment is, and should be, for both animals AND humans and we should all just back off and let people do as they want and call it good.

Here in the great state of Oregon, we have a great death with dignity law, which apparently has been used by nearly 300 people since enacted in 1994 (I think). Here's the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oregon_Ballot_Measure_16_%281994%29. Our law has held up against a repeal effort, an action by the Bush admistration to stop it, and a visit to the Supreme Court. Face it...it's the right thing.

Apparently California's legislature is nearing approval of a similar measure, so keep your fingers crossed.

What's that you say? You don't want to be euthanized. Fine, then don't. As for me, sign me up. That is, sign me up when/if I'm terminally ill or lying in some hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of machines to keep me alive. I also don't want anybody to fight over me like they did to that poor Schiavo woman.

I should point out that I'm pretty sure God didn't want us to be hooked up to machines either. Besides, how is it that all these fundamental Christians who can't wait for the Apocalypse to arrive so they can meet their maker all want to keep everything alive (but the planet, immigrants, non-whites, the poor and liberals)? Apparently they don't want to miss out on the Savior's return.

Tee-Hee...

http://tv.yahoo.com/news/article/urn:newsml:tv.ap.org:20070608:paris_hilton__ER:69762;_ylt=ArcSxPk33TXCMCIN7dypfF76o9EF

Justice Prevails!!!

Saving the other inmates from Paris...

Apparently, Paris Hilton got sent home from jail yesterday. http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070608/ap_en_ce/paris_hilton

I have to say that I'm torn over this. First of all, I'm by no means a fan of her (or most other bitchy celebrity types). So, the thought of her going to jail was only news to me in that I hoped that she would be brutally gang-raped by the other female prisoners AND it would never show up on YouTube. Wouldn't that be awesome?

**Please note, that I reserve wishing brutal gang-rapes only on those members of society that believe they are more important than the rest of society and act like stupid a-holes the vast majority of their time on the planet. I do not in any way condone gang-rape, rape, sexual assualt, sexual abuse or anything else related to those terms under any circumstances and believe that there is a special place in hell for all those people (hopefully in the same room as Falwell and Paris). I apologize in advance to anyone offended by my comments.

On the other hand, after discovering that she was released early due to an unidentified rash, I can only commend the LA County Corrections Department for correctly assuming that Ms. Hilton must be infested by so many STDs that the only course of action to protect the other "clean" prisoners was to send her packing with a designer ankle monitoring device for the rest of her prison sentence.

It doesn't take much of an imagination to hear the industrial din of the lights going out and to hear the cat-calls and whatnot that are inevitable in every prison. (Having not spent much time behind bars (I'm not telling any of those stories...yet), I can only use the images put forth from some of the greatest movies of all time: The Shawshank Redemption; The Green Mile; Filthy Prison Bitches 3, 5 and 14; and, of course, Stir Crazy.) And, then, through all the noise, one can hear our dear debutante sniffling and scratching her rash at the realization that it had been 72 hours since she had her last drink and her last snort of cocaine. I'd have sent her home too.

I'm trying to clean up my language these days (you'll notice that I haven't posted in awhile), so I am unable to offer my true feelings about her, but let's just say that it rhymes with "What a bucking bunt". I truly hope the judge in the case gets pissed off that his sentencing order was not executed to his exacting standards and he throws her back in jail, rash and all. And I hope the rash spreads. And that it's a rare drug-resistant kind of rash. That would be justice.

About the only way this whole thing could get better would be for her and Martha to have to cell together and they both get Paris' STD. Sweet...

Falwell...Part Deux...

Sorry about that last post. That wasn't nice. I only partly want to mean it. You know, the part of me that finds nearly everything Reverend Falwell said completely reprehensible.

That part of me wants to see him downstairs. The rest of me is mostly filled with compassion and forgiveness...something I'm sure will totally disgust Jerry.

Falwell...

...see you down there!

Elvis Has Entered The Building...

The other day, the wife and boys joined me for lunch at the local cafe. Nothing is particularly amazing about this place, but it generally provides at least a little space for dining in peace. About halfway through our meal, a gentleman enters the cafe and saunters to a bench right next to our table and just sorta sat there waiting for service. There were plenty of tables available, so I'm not sure if we were invading on "his" table or if he just felt the need to be near us. Anyway, this gentleman was none other than the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis! I mean it. He's a downright spittin' image of the King. It was awesome!

The wife was doing her best to force down her food without bursting with laughter and neither boy was even phased by the impersonator. I, however, couldn't resist speaking up. I asked what anybody would ask, "Excuse me, did you used to sell cars?" I thought the wife was going to choke! His reply, in a decidedly un-Elvis-ish voice, "Why, yeah, I did!" At this point, I can see my wife start herding the kids as I'm certain she was ready to leave out of sheer embarrassment, but abruptly stopped when Elvis began a lengthy conversation with us.

See, years ago, I bought a car from Elvis. It turned out to be a total junker, but it served it's intended purpose and lasted nearly 200,000 miles. The paint would fall off in large chunks. The driver's seat was broken on one side, so I always looked like I was cruisin' down the strip instead of just going to work. A friend once told me that he wouldn't follow me, for fear of paint flying off my car and landing on his new truck. I told him not to worry because the paint wouldn't stick to anything!

Anyway, Elvis is doing okay. He's having some trouble these days with his weight, cholesterol, both hips, and one knee. Surprisingly, he only ordered a small side salad for lunch, which he willingly informed us was because he needed to lose weight before having hip surgery.

I'll bet you didn't know that Elvis was an "over-sharer". We learned all sorts of stuff about him (particularly his many ailments), from his job history to details about his marriage. It was all very interesting, but a bit overwhelming. Apparently, he's no longer selling cars, but he's an avid car collector, particularly the Chevy sportscars, Camaro and, of course, the Corvette. I'm not a "car" guy, so I can't remember what his most recent acquisition was, but it sounded cool enough.

On a side note (this is where I venture off to Tangentville), one of my oldest friends used to drive a 'Vette in high school. It was pretty cool for a Chevrolet Chevette.

Anyway, back to Elvis. Over-sharers are good people, but they really ought to learn some discretion before just telling everyone about everything, particularly when they're trying desperately to finish their meals. I have found that pre-teens and the elderly are both devoid of the stop-talking-now filter that the rest of us have.

I should also point out that Elvis is aging just like the rest of us. Not as well as we'd all dreamed about when we were young. But, despite all that, the man is in great spirits and still dons the sequined jump suit for appearances throughout the States. So, suck it up people. If Elvis can still do it...so can you!

Mix it up to fix it up...

Okay, that was a stupid title. A rhyme? The best I could do was a rhyme? In the old days, before the internet as we know it, before email, and long before blogs, I'd write the story first and then add a headline. It just seemed to make the most sense, given that I didn't always know which direction an article would take me. No sense putting an arbitrary label on something and then letting the boundaries of that keep me fenced in. But now, even a simple email asks for the recipient and then the subject as though that's all I'm going to talk about. I suppose having, "Work, kids, vehicle and commute update, questions about you, and lame joke du jour" might overwhelm my audience just a little. Then again, typing, "V1A_G_RA Ch3AP!" would probably get it tossed into your junk email folder, despite the fact that I'm selling my free sample for cheap!

Anyway, there I go into tangentville again. The title was the best I could do. But, more importantly, I'd like to share with you a little bit about my two dear friends, Natalie and Drew. Okay, they're not my friends at all, but I wish they were. We've never met. I think I've emailed Drew before. They have cashed a few of our checks and sent us wonderful shirts and bags in return before. But, nonetheless, they still are my friends-not-friends. My wife and I can hardly wait to check their nightly additions to their webcomics. Plain and simple, those kids rock!

Visit them at:
www.toothpastefordinner.com
www.nataliedee.com
www.marriedtothesea.com

After you do that, check out their movies. Read their blogs (I truly wish they'd update more). Visit their archives (hint: your boss won't like it if you try to read their entire catalog in one day). If you like reading this, you just might like what they create.

Or. Don't. But keep reading, you just might by the end of this post.

The bride and I have been reading them faithfully for over a year now. But, a few months ago, they started making movies in addition to their comics. They're literally all over YouTube. Interestingly, at first both their movies and comics kinda fell off from my expectations, with only the occasional one being foward-worthy. Actually, I think some of their fans really got on them about it, too. Natalie eventually noted in her blog that diversifying was one way to maintain their creative-edge. You know what? She's absolutely right, and they've clearly taken it to the next level and are better than ever!

What's that mean for you? Simple. Diversify. Write a blog. For the longest time, I sat here reading everyone else's blogs and never writing my own. I was afraid I'd sound dumb. I probably do. But, guess what? Nobody reads this shit anyway. So go do it! I'm serious. Or, go fly a kite (just not in Pakistan). Make movies. Climb mountains. Take a shit in the woods. Do something completely different and see how it makes the rest of you better.

*For a moment, I was starting to sound like those motivational posters. Ugh...
**Contrary to the post...I do NOT have any Viagra for sale. I don't have any Viagra at all. Sorry...

Peaches...

...more concisely, "shitty peaches". What are "shitty peaches" you ask? Well, it's not the name of my band, mostly because I don't have a band. But if I did have a band, I would lobby real hard to name us "Shitty Peaches".

But, I digress...shitty peaches are in fact the smell when someone at the office makes a feble effort to mask the scent of their shit with the can of peach-scented spray that's been sitting on the back of the can for the last three years. Shitty peaches is not, I repeat, NOT a good scent by any stretch of the imagination. It's about enough to make me throw up a little in my mouth. (Not sure why I'd want to name a band after something that makes me puke, but that's for another blog entry.)

Here's the deal. Shit smell on its own. Acceptable enough, because it is what it is. Peaches on their own are hands down one of the best aromas in the world. Together...they're a recipe for disaster. Does the stink turn the peaches rotten? I don't know, but it seems like a good theory.

I should add that "shitty peaches" should in no way be confused with "shitty melon burst", mostly because "shitty melon burst" actually sounds like something that could happen...and it doesn't sound pretty.

So, what's the solution you ask? Hang out in the bathroom a little longer. Read the entire golf magazine. Enjoy a good book. Play solitaire on your cell phone. You're on the clock...do whatever the fuck you want. But, please, I'm begging you, don't spray the peaches to cover your stink. It won't work.

**Two blogs about poo (and their accompanying smells) in six blog entries. Damn it. I thought I was above all that, but I guess I'm just like every other man.

Pheremones...

I love "my" time. I sincerely believe that the key to personal happiness begins with being happy with yourself when nobody else is around. Unfortunately, I don't get a lot of time to just be by myself since I work in a cube farm (more of a small "hobby" cube farm) and have a small herd of children and pets at home. But, when I do, I absolutely try to make the most of it.

For example, I subscribe to 2 golf magazines (the big 2...if you're a golfer, you know which ones I'm talking about) and I usually can read a whole issue while sitting on the can. Don't get me wrong, I could easily be done and out of there long before the whole magazine is read, but they're generally a good read and some of the stuff is actually useful.

Except this...

This is Dr. Winnifred Cutler of the Athena Institute. They put ads in the "classified section" of the golf magazines. Apparently she discovered the relationship between human pheremones and the interactions between men and women.

First of all, and this isn't very nice, but I can see why she had to discover pheremones.

Finally, between this ad (which really should be re-worked to cast their product in a more favorable light) and all the Viagara and sex technique video ads I'm beginning to wonder if there's a direct connection between golf and sexual inadequacy. I'll have the ask the bride if I've been afflicted, but I'm pretty sure I'm okay.

They should've called the Kite Man...

After reading this, it is quite clear that there is a lot wrong in this world. 11 people are killed at a kite festival? Seriously? WTF? That's unbelievable. Wire kite strings? Glass-coated kite strings? Celebratory gunshots? For a kite festival? Really? Damn.

Apparently the Pakistani government made kite flying illegal after there were a bunch of deaths at the '06 version, only to lift the ban just before the '07 games. They say hindsight is 20/20, but what does foresight equal?

Supposedly there's a movie coming out about the Afghanistan Kite Festivals that is based on the book "Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini (buy it here). The movie is getting quite a lot of rave reviews from those that have pre-viewed it. I guess I'm just going to have to add it to the ol' Netflix queue.

Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is that we (The good ol' US of frickin' A) probably shouldn't be anywhere where they take something as simple as kite flying this seriously.

So, now I have added my two-cents worth on our military presence in pretty much any place in the world. We really, really, REALLY need to bring our kids home. I'll admit that I'm not on the right side of the fence. I'll admit that I have never been in favor of us being in Iraq. But I just gotta say folks, that we're not playing on the same field as the people we're helping/invading/democratizing/whatever. People die at their kite festivals. That's like people getting killed at Westminster or something.

Oh, I'll bet you're wondering about the "Kite Man" from the blog title? Well, if you grew up in the Northwest in the late 70's, you'll definitely remember Pacific Power's "Kite Man" PSA's. I think he was trying to tell us to be more safe with kites, or something, but every time we tried to fly a kite in Portland, there wasn't enough wind or we just plain sucked at kite flying. Anyway, at one point the Kite Man says, "What if your kite wiiiiiiiiiiinds around a power line?" (With the "wind" really drawn out and syrupy.) The kids all scream, "Call the Kite Man!" It was awesome!

The best part of the whole PSA had to be when the Kite Man asks, "What about frogs?" This little girl replies (cue the classic cute little kid voice), "I like frogs." That's probably my first exposure to a non-sequiter, although at the time I had no idea what a "non-sequiter" was.

Here's an idea...we should all go out and fly our kites in honor of our fallen Pakistani brothers and sisters. Only this time, no razor wire. And no guns. And no war.

Vonage...

Last night I was watching something and this Vonage commercial came on. I've seen it probably dozens of times before, but this was the first time I actually "watched" it. Can I just say that Vonage has chosen the biggest bunch of nerds, geeks, dweebs, gamers, losers and loners to be their "Customer Spokesmodels" I've ever seen. No wonder Vonage is in deep trouble with their finances and legal troubles.

Don't get me wrong, I'm basically nothing more than a cool-nerd at best, but the last thing I'd ever expect is for some company to make me their TV image. The last guy they air on the commercial says something to the effect of, "...people don't even know I'm on VOIP...". Okay, seriously, dude, it's time to step out of the World of Warcraft and join the rest of society. After looking at that guy, does he even need Vonage (or any phone, for that matter)? It's not like anybody other than his mom is calling him.

I'm certain that I'm making all sorts of people mad about this, but when Vonage first came out, I was thinking that it might be kinda cool to have, but clearly the only people interested in getting Vonage now are the types that are already spending way, WAY too much time on their computers.

Here's a tip...if you've got stock in Vonage that's worth anything...sell now.

Fun Sponging...

I decided I'd better clear the air regarding the "Fun Sponging" title of my blog on the off chance someone legitimately searching for a blog about "sponging" techniques or ideas or whatever, might happen across this thing and wonder where all the good advice is. THIS IS NOT A BLOG ABOUT SPONGING. In fact, the only thing I use sponges for is to clean dishes, so if that's why you're here, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But stay for awhile and maybe, you'll find my musings satisfactorily amusing.

"Fun Sponging" is the act of being a "Fun Sponge" which is defined by UrbanDictionary.com as "Someone who has the ability to walk into a room and literaly soak all of the fun out of it." I should point out that I am, in fact, not a "Fun Sponge" at all (Most would probably describe me as exactly the opposite), but the phrase just cracks me up, so I decided to name my blog after it.

There you have it. Simple enough.

Have an awesome day!

My Super Power...

So, last night the wife and I discovered my super power. I have the uncanny ability to detect when a fart is a signal that the perpetrator better get their behind directly to the nearest bathroom and take care of business. I realize that most of you probably don't think that this is much of a super power at all, but I can say with great confidence that my ability to sniff out the truth has saved our family from a myriad of natural disasters.

Take the kids, for instance. For all but the baby, they have the ability to choose to use the bathroom when necessary. Unfortunately, they seem to think that pushing the envelope is a worthy goal and all too often wait until it's far, far too late before venturing into the commode. This is where my powers come in handy and fortunately, the kids still listen when I raise my voice. I'm even relatively adept at determining which emissions of the baby's are just him enjoying what has to be one of the most satisfying things a baby can do and when something far more serious is approaching. Many start-the-washing-machine, get-the-baby-in-the-tub and disinfect-the-nursery disasters have been averted by my talents.

I have also recently discovered that I can detect which of my dog's emanations is worthy of a trip outside. I must admit that I did not believe that essence eau dog 2 was possible to decipher when we first rescued her from the streets of the neighboring town, but there definitely is a certain quality to the absolute rankness that is her tail-less ass that leaves little doubt as to what is inevitably following close behind. We also believed that dog 2 would eventually overcome her funk with exposure to a diet devoid of scraps and garbage, but apparently the baby takes great pride in sharing his food with her (which might explain their combined near-toxic levels of gaseousness), but turns out she has doggie IBS. Just my luck...she must be a Cancer like half of us!

Interestingly, I don’t think of myself as a particularly gifted gas-passer (although kid 1 is brilliant at it…just say the word “fart” and it’ll happen), nor do I find my own to be particularly offensive, so I’m not sure why I was given this gift…I guess I’m just lucky.

(*More on dog 2 (and dog 1), kids 1-4, the wife, the job, and other rants and ruminations later.)

Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot. Anybody want a cat or 4?