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 . . .

scoville schmoville

In a comment to post about how I'm a jerk or about jerk ribs or something like that, Daryl is nice enough to add the following in a comment

Rooster sauce? I'd never heard of it so I looked it up in Wikipedia. 2000 Scoville units!? Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy.

Daryl you ignorant slut, I don't care about Scoville units. Rooster sauce is great not because it's especially hot but because it has a lovely flavor. It's also got a certain panache, "Tah, look at me. I use rooster sauce." said in your best Buffy and Muffy at the country club voice

I can do hot food, and food that should be hot I do like fairly hot. Our last visit to Senor Taco saw the back of my head sweating so much that I could ring drops out of my hair. I wore out two different swabbing napkins. The problem for me is when a sauce or condiment has been treated as if the heat is more important than good flavor.

It's actually Sriracha, not rooster sauce, but we lame Americans refer to it as such because it has a rooster on the bottle. We're easy that way. Plus I'm sure that Sriracha is hard to say. I don't trust Americans to work too hard to say names, and I'll relate a story from my college days to suggest that an anecdote is proof.

I went to a local two year business college, though we won't mention it took me three years. One of my classmates was Pakistani and told us all to call him Chris. Chris worked in a tshirt store in the horrible trio of hell that soils the mountains to the east of my town. Turns out his real name was Chentu, but the locals couldn't pronounce that, and he became Chris.

And for what it's worth, I don't really think Daryl is ignorant or slutty. For those who didn't get the joke, the video below is for you.

walking skaters

A quick post to ask for donations. Hard Knox Roller Girls are asking for donations for Light the Night.

About Light the Night, brazenly lifted from their website:

Light The Night Walk is The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's nationwide evening walk to raise funds and awareness about blood cancers.

Participants carry illuminated balloons to celebrate and commemorate lives touched by cancer. Funds raised support the Society's mission: cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families.

Your participation helps save lives. Anyone can take part. Children, adults and seniors are all welcome. This is a casual walk with no fitness requirements.

Please join us at a Walk in your area and support our fight against blood cancers as we "light the night" with hope and raise funds to find cures.

Visit Light the Night's Tennessee chapter home page HERE or visit the HKRG donation page HERE. Thanks in advance for any donations, for helping us reach our goal and for donating to a good cause.

Walks will be held throughout the country. Either above link will take you to a local chapter, but in the upper right hand corner you can change the page based on your zip code.

jerk

In the comments to the Roses are red post, Ron, the originator of the theme, explains his discomfort with my subject matter as well as offering this final bit of advice.

Now give me your damn recipe for Jamaican Jerk Ribs or I’m go’in Bobby Flay on ya

Perhaps Ron hasn't read far enough into the archives, but I have mentioned Bobby Flay on at least one occasion, and anyone who remembers that will also remember that I think Bobby Flay is a talentless hack. I'm sure he's made up a recipe or two, but his new show Throwdown is a perfect example of his inabilities.

The most recent episode, watched only because of the darling older ladies and pie, saw Flay once again swoop into some small town where the dupes have been lied to about the true nature of the show. Along comes Bobby, having tested and most likely reverse engineered the competition's pie as well as having visited another pie maker on his own to replace a life time of learned skills with a five minute crash course in letting someone else do it. Bobby of course rolls into town and surprises the ladies with the fact that they are not actually going to be in a Food Network show about them and their pies. Nope, it was all a ruse to get them to accept his challenge.

Of course Bobby wins, his smug punchable face so happy to have bested a pair of seniors. I hate Bobby Flay.

Also, I'm not sure if I have a Jamaican jerk rib recipe. I could make something up, and the idea may actually nestle and ferment in my brain and force me to quit being a lazy cook. I've spent some small amount of time thinking jerk thoughts through the day as I've wondered about this. I've googled it, looked at the page at Wikipedia and even consulted the Food Lover's Companion. I really could stand to fix the grill and play with some hunks of meat before the cold forces my pussy ass back inside for the winter.

Quite honestly, my experience with jerk has been entirely (not the good kind of) restaurant cooking. I've worked with large jars of jerk seasoning that we trusted the company who made the spice mixes to have gotten right as well as placing that same trust in the people who made the marinade and sold it in five gallon jugs.

Jerk was developed in the Caribbean islands as a way to flavor and preserve meat in the hot climate. Originally it was dried and was similar to preparations any number of cultures have conceived. The difference was in the particular island flavorings, another story in the new world food saga. What we could come up with now can be completely open to some amount of interpretation because I'm not willing to make jerky out of ribs, but I do love ribs and cooking them.

Perhaps what really needs to happen is I figure out a spice mix I like and post it. Ron can then try it and damn it for not being hot enough. I'll counter that my kids are delicate and tender and tell him to add some rooster sauce. That will start the feud that eventually leads to both our demise in a sort of Rocky and Apollo double knock out.

Stay tuned.

sense of humor

I posted a comment earlier today at Ron's place (for homeschool visitors, different Ron). This Ron I met through Rosie, and they both deserve a visit.

Today Ron posted a sort of tribute to the classic "roses are red, violets are blue" poem and asked for suggestions for the next two lines. I commented and have since apologized, though of the three I left, he did add one back in the comments, though he rightfully deleted my original.

The thing is, he didn't seem to understand how I could have come up with the two that were objectionable. I must say that I don't always display the true horror that is my sense of humor, and I've certainly contained my vulgarity somewhat on this blog. I admit that at the beginning I was perhaps a bit other wordier, though through a possibly unconscious effort, I've restrained myself a bit lately.

So for the edification of my readers, I here include the one I can remember. I once again apologize to Ron, but in my heart of hearts, I'm really a vulgar, uncouth, slightly learned sort of guy to whom very little is sacred. I don't try to offend, but I also don't try not to offend.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to poke
You where you poo

And for the hell of it, listen to the song in the video down there. It's Roger Miller doing Dang Me which contains a variation on the aforementioned poem. It makes Big Brother giggle every time he hears it which in turn makes me giggle a little as well. The video has absolutely nothing to do with the song, but thanks to You Tube, there aren't too damn many songs you can't find some version or other of.

local milk

The idea of beginning to eat more locally has always appealed to me, and it's something I'm mostly too lazy to have started in on before. I'm a last minute kind of person when it comes to planning meals, so I end up at the same ol' grocery store, Momma needing to leave for work minutes from when I return home, buying from the same ol' ingredients from all over the world to make the same few meals over and over again.

We do have farms around my town, and it is possible to find plenty of just about anything you want from close by. The problem is with me and my need to quit thinking good ideas while still going to that same ol' grocery store.

Cruze Dairy Farm is just up the river. You actually follow the river to where it splits (or more accurately comes together, but coming from the west it splits) and take the river to the north. The farm is in the big bend. It's easier to drive of course, but I'd love to be able to do it by river.

The milk is not homogenized and takes a bit of work when you first bring that cool jug from the fridge. No amount of shaking ever fully incorporates the fatty bits, so you're likely to notice one occasionally as they slip past. I've had milk like this once before. I'd spent the summer in Wyoming working at a camp and was waiting for my family to drive out and get me, while I spent that last week staying with the family that ran the camp. The milk then was even fresher and not quite cool. The bits bothered me then, but I may have gotten over that since then.

In truth, the bits are fun to catch and squish with your tongue. Momma pointed out to the boys that it's the same cream that's on our favorite yogurt, and I've heard no complaints from either of them.

I must say that this is the best milk I have ever tasted. It's thick and flavory as hell (I should copyright "flavory as hell" 'cuz it's sweet.) Part of me wants to proclaim it "milk as milk was meant to be," but really, I have to admit that I'm not a baby cow and can't honestly make that proclamation. Instead I'll go with the best milk ever, so far as I know.

advice

Today is the perfect day for some advice for new parents. The stroller can be hazardous, not only because you don't want to drop the baby while you kick the stroller open and try to get the lock to engage on that first kick so you can get the baby in and not have the stroller fold up on her. A bit of advice on using that stroller is in order.

all right brain

Because Contemplator posted Simpsons videos about grad students, I ended up watching a different video, featuring Homer finally taking the exam to finish high school.

I've always felt an affinity for Homer J. though I certainly hope I reach a slightly higher standard. It's surely somehow serendipitous that this is the video I happened to watch next. If Contemplator felt camaraderie for the grad students, then I'm certainly with Homer in this one.

not so sure

The Boy, upon being informed that there was no milk to go with his peanut butter graham crackers, "Well, that's okay, crackers are good dipped in water too."

.

tech and soccer

Oh, the joys of modern technology. Momma bought us a new camera for Christmas last year, a lovely thing with all sorts of tricks. We've come up with some pretty cool pictures of the boys playing soccer. We haven't gotten any good derby pictures yet because I suck at trying to do that sort of thing. I haven't figured out how to jump up and down and take pictures at derby bouts, and I just don't have time as I stalk the touch line during soccer games.

Momma discovered the lovely feature that allows you to hold the button down and take a series of pictures. That's how you get over four hundred pictures of a U10 game. It's also how I've learned my team's real need. Nearly every picture seems to be a group of my team, clustered together, kicking like hell at the ball. And I set up our most recent practice based on those pictures.

I need them to learn position, but I also need them to understand the idea of the team as a whole. One of the things I did was sort of interesting in a not-sure-if-it-made-any-impression-at-all sort of way, but it might possibly have seemed to at least been a good prelude to the practice. I had the team form a circle, each boy standing far enough from the team mate on either side so that they could then hold up a ball between them. I was on the outside and would move around, take steps backward, move side to side, and have the team move toward me. The goal was to move together without dropping any balls. I had to keep an eye on them and try to keep their hands on the sides, as the random hand would slip under the ball making it entirely too easy.

Whether or not they learned anything, this was really fun and hard to do. It was interesting to note that, more often than not, they never lost their soccer balls all at once, but several times, the one dropped ball would lead to at least two or three more if not all of them.

Next I made them crazy by almost scrimmaging. I tried my best to force them to walk, and I was constantly stopping play to point out their position and where they should be. It's always fun to tell a bunch of eight and nine year olds that they need to stop bunching like grandma's underwear. Every time I stopped play I would explain what I wanted from them and would then yell, "POSITION" by which I meant for them all to retreat to their respective ends of the field at which point I would restart play by passing the ball randomly into the field and yell, "WALK" because I really did want them to walk. They didn't, but I kept them slow enough so that I could yell things like YELLOW SHIRT, YOU JUST STOLE THE BALL FROM YOUR TEAM MATE and he would have time to think and process that info. Of course this would be when I once again called for the ball and yelled POSITION, and we started all over again.

It might have worked. When I turned them loose to actually scrimmage, they might have looked better. I've got good kids who can play the game; I just have to make them a team of good kids who can play the game and stay somewhat in position.

And in the picture, that is Big Brother with the ball, as if I'd show you the picture where he's goal keeping by sticking his butt out.

sports weekend

If all my friends out there in radio land within the sound of my voice, or at least a not too long drive, want to witness what promises to be a grand sporting weekend, then please head on down next weekend, 9/29-9/30.

Momma's roller derby team is playing Saturday September 29. It promises to be a great bout and will be the final intraleague bout of the season to determine who goes on to the championship bout.

Momma's Machine Gun Kellys take on the Black Bettys. MGK beat the Lolitas Locas in our season opening bout, and our second bout saw the Lolitas defeating the Black Bettys. To support three teams, our non playing skaters supplement the bouting teams, so Momma, as a Betty for the night faced off against some of her team mates who were helping out the Lolitas. It was an exciting match, but the day I see a derby bout that isn't exciting, I'll something.

The very next day, September 30, UT's Lady Vols soccer team faces off against Florida. Apparently the rivalry between the two schools extends throughout all the various sports teams. Making this game more special is that it's both AYSO day and "orange out" day. Children in their AYSO jerseys as well as all fans in orange can get in for half price. This will be our first visit to the Lady Vols new complex, and I'm really excited to see the game.

So, you have slightly less than a week if you live near enough. Roller derby and soccer in one weekend. What more could a body ask for? And if you want more soccer I can offer you a U6 game at 9:30 in the AM. Our U10 game that day is being rescheduled for a date yet to be determined.

And I wonder if, instead of wearing orange, I could get half price wearing my soccer jersey from when the adult league was still somehow part of AYSO. It's doubtful, and I'm sure I'll have to wear the dreaded orange. I don't think I own any orange clothing, a truly punishable offense in my town.

pirate speak

I hope everyone so inclined enjoyed talking like a pirate all day today. I for one did not participate as I really dislike the popularization and consequent pussy-ifying of pirates. Pirates, as I may have said before, were not cuddly or sweet. They might have been funny, but they certainly didn't walk around wearing totally rondo hats with cartoon jolly rogers.

So, in honor of the true beauty of the piratical world, join with me in some real celebrations of pirate life. Tomorrow I decree it to be slash throats and drown the women like a pirate day. The day following will be eat wormy stale bread and drink rum because there's no fresh water day. In honor of the navies of the world we will finish all of this off with sprinkle the decks with caltrops and shards of broken glass like the royal navy day.

So sharpen your swords me hearts and let the black gods that wait to welcome us all hear your shouts. It's the end of a rope for us all should we make it back alive and our eyes for the crow's belly.

man list

COD has posted a list of twenty five things a man should know as decided on by Popular Mechanics. I'd add at least one, but if you are a man reading this and don't know about the clit then there isn't shit I can do for you.

So, I'll go through the list and give you my honest judgment of my ability to perform the task at hand. You could even call it a meme wherein you lift the list of skills and post for all the world to read, you own adequacy.

1. Patch a radiator hose-my first thought would be some sort of tape. I'd lean toward duct tape, and we usually have some purple duct tape in the car as part of Momma's roller derby stuff.

2. Protect your computer-from?

3. Rescue a boater who as capsized-by screaming, "CALM DOWN YOU DUMB SUMBITCH I'M TRYING TO FUCKIN' HELP!"

4. Frame a wall-I could do the required actual physical part given a patient teacher, and I could eventually learn to make all the measuring and cutting. I even know measure once, cut twice.

5. Retouch digital photos-Google will give you Picasa, a delightful photo editing thing that seems to work for me though Momma and I are slowly learning how to use it in tandem with My Pictures.

6. Back up a trailer-I know how to back that ass up, and I know how to take it slow enough so that you figure out the steering.

7. Build a campfire-pretty much, but how primitive are we talking? I've seen the process on tv, probably Ted Nugent's reality show, whereby one can make fire using sticks and string. It's like watching Kung Fu movies as a kid. Right after you see it you're quite certain you can do it too.

8. Fix a dead outlet-not in the least.

9. Navigate with a map and compass-my only experience here would be from playing video games, but I'm sure if that's taught me nothing else it's taught me something.

10. Use a torque wrench-mostly

11. Sharpen a knife-roughly. I've generally only ever had shitty Sysco knives to deal with that had already been sharpened poorly by years of cooks before my time. And I've never personally owned a sharpening stone that was worth shit. I've actually never even worked in a restaurant with a decent stone. There was always some sad, oil slickened thing that, regardless of how it was treated, was fated never to make a true edge upon any knife ever again.

12. Perform CPR-see number seven minus the assumption that I can actually perform CPR.

13. Fillet a fish-now this one is cooking related, so having never done it doesn't apply. I've taken apart bits of animals a few times, and I know how it's done, so though I'd do a detestable job that would make Momma smirk, I could in fact fillet a fish somewhat.

14. Maneuver a car out of a skid-assuming I wasn't going so fast as to put myself into a horrible skid I think I possibly could.

15. Get a car unstuck-from what? someone parking too close to your back end? that giant hump that fucked me up leaving the planetarium that time where we actually had to rock the car? mud? snow bank? impound? to name a few I've already performed.

16. Back up data-I could figure it out somewhat with Microsoft's lovely helpfulness

17. Paint a room-is this one so hard?

18. Mix concrete-the directions are on the bag. Properly using concrete would be a better skill.

19. Clean a bolt-action rifle-I'm sure I could. It's part of the gene thing. Guns? sure I know.

20. Change oil and filter-it's been years, and I really should start doing it myself again, but yes, I have changed some oil in my time. I actually have a few bottles of old oil as part of my garage mess that I keep not getting around to recycling.

21. Hook up an HDTV-um, this one is just rondo. Read the instructions, go back out to buy the adapter that you didn't know you need, plug, twist, plug, lather, rinse, repeat.

22. Bleed brakes-I just had to remember to pump the pedal when I did the brakes on the Ranchero I used to own. Those were the days.

23. Paddle a canoe-again, religion to the rescue. I learned to paddle a canoe on the Flint River in south Georgia on boy's camping trips with the youth group. Damn I miss paddling a canoe on a river.

24. Fix a bike flat-I haven't in years, but you never forget how to fix a flat.

25. Extend your wireless network-call someone? what's a wireless net-thingy?

mmm salsa

Thanks to Doc for this one. She's planning on cooking some sort of fish with what I'm sure is a lovely peach and blackberry salsa. Peach and blackberry salsa sounds tasty, though I'd lean toward pork as a flesh base for this sauce. I'm not the fish lovingest guy on the planet, though I really could see it working for the fish and probably even the elk she mentions.

Doc's post isn't about the salsa, but is an interesting tale in and of itself. You really should go and read it, though even as I say this I imagine both my readers have already read it and probably before me.

She actually doesn't even mention the salsa, just throws it out as part of her post. Being the kind of guy that likes eating food, I jumped on her link. How surprised was I to find this random placement of things and stuff.