bookery

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Book Snob You like to think you're one of the literati, but actually you're just a snob who can read. You read mostly for the social credit you can get out of it.
Literate Good Citizen
Dedicated Reader
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

How not true is this? Let me count the ways . . .

Okay, up to a point I'll accept book snob as not undescriptive. I think I do tend toward a certain snobbishness about things, though books would be only one of those things. However, I do not read for the social aspect.

I do read a vast variety of books. I'm currently taking a break from muddling through a book full of Jonathan Swift in order to both take a break and speed through the new National Geographic. Before this I almost began The Neverending Story, but as it was one of Big Brother's birthday gifts, I pressed pause to allow him to have first crack at it. I recently read War of the Worlds and didn't not enjoy it.

I'm not sure what I'll read next, but I do heartily disagree with the statement above that I read for the social credit, whatever the hell that even means. For real.

And thanks Sue for taking this before me and then posting it so I could finally go two days in a row with something to post about.

the window

Momma woke me much too early this morning with some sort of story that, as my brain fought to become conscious, I heard as somewhere along the lines of, " . . . the car's broken in the middle and you need to wake up and take me to work and get it fixed."

My brain fought even harder to exit the fog of having just been deeply asleep. I heard the bit about something broken and needing to get up. I sat up, feeling the normal (for me) overly aggravated feeling of being awakened, fighting to make sense of it all.

I don't usually wake up well. It takes a good bit to drag me from sleep, and if someone is waking me up intentionally, especially with bad news, I wake very irritable and even a bit angry sometimes. I'm an asshole under the best of these bad circumstances, though I have warned the wife and kids to just ignore me, give me some time and space and I will calm down and become at least as rational as I ever am.

The real story was that our front driver's side window is now in hundreds of pieces down inside the door. The motor to that window has been slow since we bought the car, growing worse each year it seems and being especially difficult in the cold. Momma had rolled the window down to get some of the fog off, but the window proved especially sluggish on this rather cold morning. Her attempts to help the motor by pulling up on the window probably dislodged the window which had probably been helped along by a few years of having pulled at the window trying to help the motor. The window then fell far enough back into the door to shatter.

That's why I had to drag myself out of my warm bed, awakened to the need to wake the boys, put on extra layers and drive the few miles downtown with one window stuck open in the cold. Did I mention that it was pretty cold this morning?

It ended up being not so bad once we were driving and had the heat cranked and I'd gotten a handle on my oh so mature early rise aggravation. We dropped Momma off and went to get gut busting fast food breakfast. That may have been the bonus, that we got to spend too much money for unhealthy food, but on this of all mornings I felt that at least the boys deserved a little something special.

I wolfed down the gut buster while perusing the yellow pages for possible window repair services, found pen and paper for the estimates, and began calling, each call beginning almost exactly like this:

ring-ring

Them, "Hello, Prospective Auto Glass Repair Company, friendly representative speaking."

Me, "Hi, I'm calling around looking for prices to get a window replaced in my car."

See, right there I'm letting them know I'm not calling to get a job done just yet. I know better than to jump at the first person I call, and I don't want them thinking I'm setting up an appointment. I also know that, given the nature of the work, I do need to be quick and get this set up as early as possible in order to get the window replaced today. The later I wait the less likely they are to be able to work me in. However, I'm going to call enough places to know what to expect to pay and to find the cheapest of those prices. It's pretty much a no brainer, sort of a goes-without-saying sort of thing.

I got quote number one and went to number two. They were much cheaper, and I told the woman so. She informed me that they were short an employee for the day and that she would make some calls to see when they could get me in. I informed her again that I would be making more calls, seeking the lowest price I could.

She called me back a short time later to inform me when they could get me in, and she was ready to set up the appointment. I told her not to make the appointment as I wasn't done calling other places, and that's when she did it. She made a fake little-girl-acting-sad noise, a plaintive little "aaww" that I didn't tell her could have easily lost her company the deal right there.

I did set up an appointment with the third place I ended up calling. They had the cheapest price and can at some point do the job today. They are even coming to the house to do it. I'm no more stuck in the house than I would have been had we not had to get up early and take Momma to work, though having the car and being stuck is a whole new stuck, but that doesn't really matter in the end. Either way, I'm willing to wait in the warmth and not drive around town with a window semi-permanently open. Did I mention it was cold this morning?

And that's how my day began. We are soon to be out $200 for the pleasure of having a new window. I really need to see about getting that motor fixed now, but the slow leaks in two tires and the overdue oil change and the soft brake pedal will all certainly need to be addressed first, but damn if that's not just another pile of money growing ever higher looming, waiting to further deplete our meager funds. Damn cars!

troll?

I think I've become an internet troll. I'm actually a little worried about it. It's not that I'm just a troll in general, but a certain topic at a local news blogging site has irritated the living shit out of me. The subject is one I'm rather more irritated about. The problem is, I can't help but accept that most people consider my arguments shaky at best in regard to this issue, yet I also can't help but not waiver from my concerns.

Before I go any farther, I'll explain my pitiful story. My town has recently contracted with a company to have installed a number of cameras the sole purpose of which is to catch people running red lights. It wasn't something we got to know about really before it happened, and it wasn't anything I remember voting on, and all in all, I just don't like them. I don't like feeling spied on.

A big concern for me is the subcontracting of law enforcement to a for-profit company. I really don't think it's a good idea to allow this sort of relationship on any level. I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that this is not only a slippery slope but also a very steep slippery slope.

I don't like the way it's effected the way I drive. I don't like the extra fearful element this adds to what driving has become. It's one more concern, the fifty dollar ticket hanging over your head as you approach an intersection that's never proved a problem for you before they mounted cameras that would tag you. Now you approach it slowly to a point, just in case the light turns yellow, and as you enter the intersection you feel you should speed up because it might be changing at this very moment.

The troll part that scares me is my inability in this discussion to just walk away and be done. And it's not like the couple of people I continue to argue with are even making the best arguments. I've been accused of being someone who runs red lights. It's been suggested that I'm ignorant and don't actually have a driver's license. I've been accused of being equal to people who have a mentality that allows them to run down innocent pedestrians who are legally crossing the street. And I answer my real concerns over the cameras, and the same concerns are leveled at me. I don't know which is the bigger problem, the people that make these statements or that I continue to answer them.

I'm honestly done with that as of today. I've been afraid to even check the site at all even for other stories because I know if I see new comments it's all going to be continued, and I'm going to get even more pissed off than I did the last time. I'm going to let it get to me, and I'm going to finally break and just go freak on them. And I know that I likely look like some kind of nutsack about it all.

I really don't comment that often at this site because I find it hard to play nice. I'm better off just trying to enlarge my point of view about local issues and not adding my own nonsense. That's the whole reason I read this site, and I do enjoy it for that. I don't have to play nice in the majority of comments I make because I usually keep it to answering the random real troll or local dumbass, the kind that loves to try and jab the liberals with a stick and rile them up.

And that's what I've got. I'm afraid that in this one specific instance I've uncovered secret troll tendencies. It's a sad need to have the last word that I wish I could chalk up to troll baiting in regard to the dinks that won't just let me have my problems with this. They can't accept that I could possibly think the way I do and must insist on belittling me. I keep jumping back in the fray because they're just so damn intolerant of difference. Well fuck 'em I say.

I just keep talking 'bout the game

Warning, like the other one: gratuitous soccer blah, blah, blah. Best just to turn and walk away.

Speaking of the drill that I thought I'd thought of that I probably didn't really, the funny thing is, I never really thought of that drill since the couple of practices in the very beginning of the season that I used it. Having narrowed down my keeper list, and having little help in the way of other coaches, the drill itself is too much a uni-tasker and would eat into our time. I like it as a way to give the taste of the position to allow them to make an informed decision about it, and I liked that it narrowed the pool.

Having found the two kids best suited to play keeper, I've still been willing to allow a couple of other kids who showed a late interest in the position to have time to work on their skills during practice. I've explained that I need a lot of hard work from them both, though I didn't mention that the class clown nature of their regular practice antics would secretly make them have to work even harder, and one of those two is Big Brother, just so you know I really am being fair. Both these guys are real jokers during practice, but to their credit they've consistently played their best when game time rolls around.

This all came in handy yesterday as my regular keepers didn't show. I had no idea they weren't going to be there, but I did know that Big Brother and the other kid had in fact been working very hard. They've both gone from big time flinchers to pouncing at an attacker's feet onto the ball when they had the bad sense to come into our goal area. Yes, Big Brother did in fact almost take a kid out at the knees diving on the ball. Kid shouldn't have come up in Big Brother's goal area like that.

We won the game, a game that was one of the most exciting I've ever watched at any level of play. We were down our two regular keepers and had one sub. The other team was short a couple of players as well. They got a few past our keepers, but the work my kids have been doing in practice really showed. Both my keepers made some great saves, though honestly, the whole team played well. The win was awesome, but to see them showing that they're learning, that I've helped them achieve this . . . I'm glad I wasn't in the dog pile at the end.

monkey keeper

Warning: gratuitous soccer post, coaching and talking shit on poor, wee widdle kids (not really, the last part at least)

One of the concerns I had going into this season was goal keepers. AYSO U8 keepers don't use their hands, not at all sure why, but in U10 they do. Not only was this my first season coaching this age, but many of my players were new to this level as well. I'm also not a keeper in any way, so I was worried that I wouldn't be able to help my keepers do their job well.

What I didn't expect was for nearly every single kid to express an interest in the position when I asked them all that very first practice. Through the first few practices and even the first two games I rotated most of the kids through the goal. I could tell a few that didn't flinch and seemed able to catch a ball, and the two kids who came to take most of the weight of the position really stood out.

In the end, a drill that occurred to me randomly one night was what came to fix the problem. Even as late as a couple of games into the season, I still had more wannabe keepers than I really wanted. Enter Monkey in the Middle: Keeper Edition.

Even assuming most people know what monkey in the middle is, I'll explain it here to be sure. One kid is designated The Monkey. The rest of the team forms a rough circle around the monkey, hopefully at a comfortable passing distance between players across the circle from each other. The object is for the players making up the circle is to pass the ball across the circle to each other while successfully avoiding giving control of the ball to the monkey. The monkey remains inside the circle until he is able to gain control of the ball at which point he and the last person to touch the ball exchange places. You're not supposed to want to be the monkey, but for some reason I always get the kids that do in fact want to be the monkey.

Monkey in the Middle: Keeper Edition is simple. Using cones, make a circle spacing the cones the width of the goal. You should now have basically created a circle of goals. Into each goal insert one possible potential keeper. Into the middle of the circle place one coach and as many soccer balls as you have. Previous to this you've covered what the keeper is allowed and what is expected of him. Now take turns chipping shots at the kids. Actually take shots at the goal, but place them around the keeper and make them work for the ball. If they stop the ball they give it back. If not they get to run and chase it while you take aim at the next poor, wee widdle player.

This drill, if you have enough kids clamoring for a chance in the goal, gives them all some practice. It could really be a decent drill, and I'm sure someone has already thought of it and uses it quite a bit in keeper clinics. It wouldn't be the first time I thought I'd thought of something that someone else had thought of long before me. What it did for me, in the end, was help me narrow down my list of keepers to two and forced its own demise. I don't get enough time during the week for practice to focus too much on the keepers, so I make sure to come up with games and drills where they can take shots from their teammates. But I'm keeping this drill around for the next time I have more keepers than I need and need a good way to nudge the kids in other directions.

brainfire

The closest I've ever been to wasabi has been the little dollop that comes with sushi. I'm not a big fan of sushi though, so it's been fairly seldom that I get close at all. Momma does sometimes fix the boys up a box of sushi before she leaves work, so there are those random times that wasabi is in the house, but even then it's just that li'l dollop.

As for my sushi non-fanedness, it seems a travesty to not like it. I'm astounded by the simple beauty of a well put together plate. I don't like nori at all, and I've gone out of my way to try seaweed in a number of presentations. I just don't like it. As for the raw fish, I don't have any issues with the rawness, which is often the deal breaker for people. I do have some weird textural issues with the fish, and I'm not generally a huge fan of fish anyway. I do like a few fish cooked, such as red snapper and calamari, and I've been known to enjoy a well cooked scallop. Ceviche I'm fine with assuming it's made well and with good ingredients, though I will hit a limit. Working at the titty bar and running to Hooters for the dancers taught me that I could enjoy crab legs, but I'll willingly admit that in that case it could very easily be about the fact that they give you melted butter as a dipping sauce.

Yes, I did in fact just call melted butter a dipping sauce.

mmmmmmmm, butter

The thing to remember here is that none of that is the point. We must now get back to the wasabi that is the true anti hero of our tale. Anyone who's ever worked in a sushi bar can apparently most assuredly tell you, and Momma in fact told me with the words, "I can't believe you just did that." Well for fuck sake, she didn't warn me, and I didn't damn know.

Backstory, Momma did a sushi class tonight for a bunch of young teen girls. Imagine that for a moment. Anyway, after finishing the class she came home with her supplies, carrying boxes and bags, and I began helping her put things away as she discussed her evening. Of the supplies, one bag is full of containers containing various vegetables, red peppers, cucumber, carrots, and in the bottom the last smaller container. The one with the little ball of wasabi that you have to have with sushi even if the kids don't want it.

"Oooo, wasabi," or something similar I say, pulling the container out and lifting the lid. I do like wasabi somewhat, not not being a fan of the pungency life brings.

"Yeah, they weren't interested in that all," Momma says, not bothering to warn me against what I'm about to do. "One girl might have tried it."

I know pungent and that some smells can get you. I've never before tonight however felt flames engulf my brain. As I stuck my nose into the wasabi container, inhaled not nearly lightly enough, I felt so many sensations in the briefest of moments. I felt the wasabi tingle the tip of my nose with a mere spark of intensity that quickly turned into some white hot burning that rushed to the back of my skull. In all honesty, I felt the flames race in a perfect arc, up my nose to my brain where it traced a route over the very top only to end in a whole extra and unnecessary burst of pain in the very middle of the back of my brain.

I almost think I can feel it still, the place in the back of my brain where the wasabi flames ended. I'm almost certain that I can taste wasabi on my brain with my mind. I'm also fairly tempted to do it again, and I know better and that it can't end well, but damn if that wasn't one of the fucked upedest things ever.

can't have fun?

I have a new favorite line courtesy of Sue Doe-Nim, placed in a post about enjoying your kids. I have a hard time enjoying my own kids sometimes because I get into a bad habit of expecting too much from them. It's hard for me to give them the room to be kids sometimes, but I'm practicing hard at being better at this, and it's slowly seeming more natural to slow myself down or even just shut my mouth.

Sue's line-If you can't have fun with 10 kids and a ball you should seek inpatient counseling

And there you have one of the absolute best reasons to coach youth soccer.

Go and read all of Sue's post. She and her family are not homeschoolers, but you wouldn't know it to hear her talk about having fun with her kids. I don't want to suggest that traditional school families don't love their kids and have fun, but the connections and closeness many homeschool families have is often due to some extent on the choice to homeschool. I'm sure I've dug myself into a pit with my comparisons, but that's pretty much what I do.

conest and request

In a comment to my post about being prayed at/for, unschooler Lisa laughed at my lovely anecdote as well as added this:

You can delete/edit this out:
Note: I also wanted to ask if you could post about a Logo Design Contest i am having for homeschooling families.. ??it is for homeschooling site wards and I need a logo. You can read about details here:

The link got cut off in the comment, and the entire request may have gotten lost, buried in an old blog post never to be seen again. We can't have that.

The actual link is HERE. Lifelearning.org is hosting a contest to design a blog award. Many of us certainly remember a certain awarding of homeschool blog awards that happened in the mysts of time (like last year maybe?) and the shenanigans that happened around that. Let's hope that this blog award thingamajig goes better than that one. And who knows, maybe someone here wins the contest and shares the prize with me.

I hope the prize is ice cream.

phones

Our phones are through the big company, the one that used to be a different company but recently was renamed with the name of the parent. And a short time later, for some reason, Momma and I are having phone issues.

We assumed it was hers at first. It's been dropped a time or two more than mine. We realized recently that it's both phones.

I haven't been getting a number of calls lately. People will call and get sent directly to my voicemail. I try to call them back and get "Call Failed, Network Busy" message. I try again and the phone takes at least a minute of me sitting and waiting to even seem like it's doing anything.

Momma's reception has been getting really bad, and apparently mine is now doing the same. It almost seems like our coverage area has shrunk, but I don't think to pay attention to how many bars I have, so I don't really know if that's true.

We'll have had these phones for two years Mother's Day of '08 at which point this particular contract runs out. I'll be researching the next couple of days to see what sort of fix I can come up with for this. If the merging of these companies has adversely effected my ability to communicate with my overpriced yet still slightly fancy phone, then my contract should not effect my ability to find a server that won't screw up my service. I'm also quite certain that there is a part of the contract written extra tiny that I didn't read that has a clause that I agreed to that allows them to screw me at double the rate I've been paying if they so choose and that there's a spring in the phone to make it clamp down and bite my cheek if I don't damn well pay up.

We'll see!

how to clear a room

Last night Momma and I got to see an awesome couple of bands, local guys The Hits and Deals Gone Bad from Chicago.

The Hits are definitely a ska punk band, loud, maybe a little crass, a little (lot) goofy. Most of the crowd seemed very familiar with the band, knowing all the in jokes that build up around a band that can pull the locals in. They threw in way more metal guitar than any self respecting ska band ever should yet it was never too much.

Deals Gone Bad is a whole other ska direction. They play songs that make you feel stuff. They play a very soulful ska more kin to the traditional sounds. I know I've mentioned them a few times lately, but in all honesty, it's been a long time since a band moved me as much as their new stuff does.

We missed the first band that played. Between getting the boys to Grandma's house so that we could sneak out and buy Big Brother an overdue birthday present, needing to eat, and the getting the boys from Grandma's to take them to Great Grandma's who would keep them overnight we ended up getting to the show a little late.

I can't say we missed the last band. We were there while they played but we were outside for a bit of it and then went downstairs. And this band is the lesson from the title of this post.

During The Hits and Deals Gone Bad portion of the show the room was mostly full. The people attending the show were smiling and dancing. The bands were playing well and playing to an audience that wanted to see them. At some point, while DGB was thinking they still had time to play, while the entire audience expected and wanted them to play more, someone got on stage to let us all know that DGB was done. The audience as one raised their voice to demand more. The last band was not willing to let that happen. It was their turn as far as they were concerned, and that was all that mattered to them.

I don't recall what was said from the stage but Deals Gone Bad was done, and no one in the audience was especially pleased. We waited for someone from DGB to man their merch table so I could buy a cd, then Momma and I went outside.

I have no idea how the last band got on the bill. I don't know who thought it was a good idea to stick a crappy classic rock cover band at the end of the night of ska, and I almost suspect the band exists so that bars can hire them to make everyone leave. That's what happened. A room so full of life and music that the floor was shaking was suddenly full of noise and emptiness. Most people actually left, but a few of us went to the downstairs bar where we didn't have to hear the band as much.

And that's one way to clear a room. Give the good band a bunch of sass mouth about nothing other than your petty jealousy from your band sucking outright and having to play after the good band. Insist on your turn when it's obvious that the crowd you're about to hopefully play for asks for just a couple more songs from the other band. Kill the festive mood created by the bands before you and kill it so good that no one even bothers to give you a fair listen.

And that friends and neighbors is how to clear a room.

Now that the ugliness is over go to Myspace and listen to The Hits and the Deals Gone Bad. You'll thank me for it, assuming of course you like good music.

been prayed at

I thought those three people were possibly doing some sort of real estate thing when I first saw them. The woman that lives directly across the street from the people next door to me has been doing some building lately. She subdivided her lot and has built one house behind hers and has the beginning of a foundation for the one she's building in front of her house. At one point tonight, three people I don't know were looking at the place, so real estate was my first assumption.

I thought nothing of them as they stood there looking at the property. I didn't in fact think of them again at all till they were in front of the house next door. I didn't know quite what to think as they were obviously praying. I knew I was likely to be next, so as they left the neighbors I headed outside.

They were praying in front of my house when I walked up and asked, "What exactly are you doing?"

"Prayer walk," one of them answered. "We're from Blibbity Blab Baptist Church, and we're just walking through praying blah blah blah."

I really did shut her out as she finished her thing. I didn't quite know what to think. I didn't see any anointing oil, so we seemed safe there, but I also didn't think of anything witty to say till much later. What I did come up with was, "Ya'll have fun with that."

I hope to have seen the last of this, but if the praying somehow starts to work, and if I can reasonably justify my stance as to what the prayer effects and how, then I will keep you updated.

And the witty line I came up with too late? "Shouldn't ya'll be out feeding the hungry or something?"

all the cars

Inspired by Chris posting about all the cars he's owned.

1972 Ford Ranchero-bought probably in '89. I'd been trying to save money for a car when my mother decided I was going to buy this car. I didn't have any better options. It drank a fair amount of oil, especially those times I cut loose down I-675. This car could fucking go. Until the day I smashed into the ass end of a VW Rabbit on Columbia Avenue. It was backed into the driveway by the tow truck awaiting a bit of repair.

198? Chevy S10-pickup-owned by older brother, though I took over payments. This was the cheap model and not something I really wanted to own. I forget now why older brother was not making payments, but he was kind enough to have smashed in one of the front fenders. this car met it's demise t boning some stupid bitch in Morrow GA as she pulled out of a fast food restaurant and stopped right in front of me. I had time as I hit the brakes to see that there was absolutely no where I could go. I turned to the right as much as I could as I hit to keep from hitting her door . Needless to say, it was totalled.

In chronological driving terms we come now back to the Ranchero. I had purchased a new hood and front end at a junk yard and now had ample reason to repair the car, which I did. What was once half primer gray and half original red with white and black trim became all of that with the addition of a Granny Smith green hood and front end. I drove it till the tie rods broke one day while I was leaving work at a Kroger warehouse off Lakewood Freeway. I walked down the street to a repair shop that happened to be close by looking for a tow truck, not sure what to do with the damn car. I let the guy talk me into selling it to him, a decision I sort of regret to this day. This car could have brought out the hot rod guy in me, but it's probably fortunate that it didn't.

1973 Volkswagen Beetle-true punk rock car. It was mostly orange when I got it with this really poorly done black wedge like thing that started just in front of the back wheels and went up to just beneath the back window. It was only a short time before a couple of friends and I attacked it with Sharpies and wrote a lot of nonsense and punk band names all over it. There was broken glass somewhere in the back that a friend was nice enough to not clean up even as I explained that I didn't give a shit since they were the ones who had to sit in it. That car saw some good times and some high drama. It also saw an over done wannabe monster truck roll over the back end of it as I didn't clear the intersection on Memorial Drive in time, a combination of my car stalling and the guy in the truck not meaning to be quite such a dick.

1979 Mercury Grand Marquis- which had been my grandmother's car. This car was the worst possible shade of green and was christened the big pickle though any pickle this shade of green would be best avoided. This car was plush, velour seat covers over basically pillow top seats. Everything that could be electric in 1979 was. I never owned this car. The family pretty much got it as Grandma went into the home. After my brief stint with this car it went to my oldest brother's wife who likely drove the wheels off of it. I enjoyed my time with it and am happy not to have crashed in it. This is however the car I would drive up I-75/85 in, cruise control set to about 80, both feet out the window. I was an idiot, so please don't judge me based on those years. I didn't actually wreck this one, for what it's worth, but it did become unavailable to me, moving on to a more desersving family member.

MARTA-trains and buses for a good long while and a whole other chapter of my life. If not for the things I got into during this period I'd likely never have left Atlanta, but I eventually did in VW of some sort. It's pretty fucked up to sit here and consider that the long line of cars above only covered the years 1988 to 1993 as I entered the carless years. The move to Charlotte NC proved especially fun as their transit system left a bit to be desired. I actually worked within walking distance of everywhere I worked for the couple of years I was in Charlotte. I then moved to Rock Hill SC, destined to one day be a suburb of Charlotte and relied on the kindness of friends and then a boss when I worked construction for a short time. It was around this time, 1995, that Momma showed up with her car.

1988 Subaru DL-one of the most missed cars, Momma's graduation present shortly before we started to see more of each other. We drove the shit out of this car. Back and forth between Atlanta, Knoxville and back to Rock Hill as we visited family. It moved with us to Atlanta (Stockbridge) for an odd few months living with a friend before wising up and moving back to Charlotte with some other friends. Eventually this car moved with us to Knoxville and saw the end of its service as we bought a slightly newer car.

1990 Buick Skylark-grandparent style driving. I never did like this car. We drove it a lot and it was a nice size for all of us including the baby that would eventually become Big Brother. The less said about Buick in general the better. It wasn't a bad car, so I shouldn't really knock it, but . . .

1996 Honda Accord-our current car and my true favorite. It's got a lot of miles on it, but it runs great. I'd prefer an extra pair of cylinders in the engine, but I really can't complain. I really love this car anyway. We found it at Car Max and didn't really have a reasonable way of proving to them that we were a worthwhile credit risk other than that we had good credit. The car was so new to the lot that it wasn't online and didn't even have the paper in the window yet. While looking and thinking about the cars we were likely to have to settle on we saw our Honda. The salesperson didn't even know about it. I'd almost believe in destiny with the story of this car, but no.

1983 Toyota pickup-belonged to Momma's grandfather, given to us earlier this year. This truck has a pound of rust per square foot of bed space with very little rust on the body of the truck. I'm currently having battery problems and need a new throttle cable. This truck has over 200,000 miles on it. My U10's call it Rusty Wallace and end practice in the back acting goofy while their parents fold up their chairs and attempt to drag them away from the truck. This truck will likely sit in the driveway for years being used for errands and for me and the boys when we don't take Momma to work to have the car. I could love this truck if it let me. It needs at least a radio that works in addition to the real issues that I already mentioned.

peak in

As usual, I feel as if I should place a warning on what I'm about to feed you. I find this to be one of the most succinct explanations of what I've come to see in religion. However, I imagine I haven't run off all my Christian readers, and I'll even admit to having gotten this from Whore Church, a blog written by a Christian. Be warned, oh ye of little faith, that the following inspirational poster might just make you cringe, flutter, possibly even swoon, and not in the good way. It's offensive and stolen from here.

I've given various reasons over the years for my various reasons I began to question religion. A certain something happened the day I began replacing references to god with references to interstellar entities. I began to wonder why God and not Thor, or even better, why not Eris?

nutsackery

Assuming this asshole is serious, I've got a nominee for the world's biggest cunt. Go here, bring a garbage can up next to the computer in case you need to vomit. I really wish I could convince myself it's a spoof, but sadly, I think he actually thinks all this shit that tumbles out of his cold, bastard soul. Thanks to Daryl for linking to this son of a bitch and making my night less pleasant than it might otherwise have been.

In retrospect, I'm almost afraid this is satire and that I now look like a giant, loud mouthed, conclusion jumping boob. Either way, I'm kind of happy with my vitriol and the things I think of to call people, so I'm leaving this here. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice . . . uuuhhh . . .