Goals

This pic sort of sums up the past weekend, positive scores in many ways. The boy's team did well, as this shot of him scoring shows. Daughter's team didn't fare so well, they were trounced by what seemed to be an army of mutant 7&8 year-olds fed nothing but genetically engineered hybrid corn and hormone-laced milk. These kids were giants, plain and simple, and the flatfooted Sonics were absolutely no match for them.

No matter. Once back home the party began in honor of our daughter and some cousins. Oh, Michigan State was on the TV, too. We had the house properly decorated with just the right touch of Spartan support (you know, flag, wind sock, grill cover, shirt on my back. . . ) Many of my B-I-Ls are UofM fans, so I needed to extend the proper hospitality to them of course. And the TV was readily available if they needed/wanted to check-in on the score of the Michigan/Wisconsin game (hint: they weren't happy campers.) But that's not important.

The kids all enjoyed themselves immensely; what with badminton, volleyball, rasslin', gamin', eatin', singin'- you get the idea. They did what cousins do: catch up with each other in their busy, 14-and-under lives, see their grandparents, eat cake-and-ice-cream-and-chips-and-dips-and-veggies-and-fruit-and-nuts-and-sodas-bubble-gum and if I could think of anything else I'd type that too! They burned off some pent-up energy as they last got together about 6 weeks ago, and reaffirmed the various bonds that develop as you grow-up separate but alongside family. Heck, they even drew names for Kris Kringles already. Could you get kids any more wound up? Too fun!

So- now that they're all fired-up- I'm skipping town on Monday for an overnight trip, and I won't have a Saturday night in my bed until October 22. I just hope they're good for Wifey, it's hard to lower the boom over the phone- especially when they're in a trance watching TV or playing a game.

Have a great week everybody. Set, then reach your goals!

What to do when you can't report much

Gotta love the Blogthings:

This one got it wrong. James/Jim is Jimu in Japanese. Dorks! But I do know how to use chopsticks (AND I can play them on the piano. D-Definitely time for Wapner)

Your Japanese Name Is...

Akio Yamashina

What's your Japanese Name?

This one doesn't match me perfectly, but neither does my color scheme. It's SORT-OF yellow, though.

Your Blog Should Be Yellow

You're a cheerful, upbeat blogger who tends to make everyone laugh. You are a great storyteller, and the first to post the latest funny link. You're also friendly and welcoming to everyone who comments on your blog.

What Color Should Your Blog or Journal Be?

Do people really say "Mack Daddy" any more? Holla back, y'all!

Your Daddy Is Arnold Schwarzenegger

What You Call Him: Pops Why You Love Him: He's the Mack Daddy

Who's Your Daddy?

Your Personality Profile

You are elegant, withdrawn, and brilliant. Your mind is a weapon, able to solve any puzzle. You are also great at poking holes in arguments and common beliefs. For you, comfort and calm are very important. You tend to thrive on your own and shrug off most affection. You prefer to protect your emotions and stay strong.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

SEPT 19: TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY

Dang-it all, I missed it again! 9/19 is the worldwide, international Talk Like a Pirate day, and I didn't find out until five-tharrrty tonight. In honor of the wondrous occasion, I have unmasked the plundering "Privateer Orange Arse". Not sure about the orange arse, b/c if it was, me lad would be goin' t' the doctor.

Jim , your pirate name is
Privateer Orange Arse

What is YOUR pirate name?


Another generator gave me the name: "Almost-Crazy Butch Grimm" Now THIS guy sounds more like a rum-drinkin scurvy dog! Go now, buckos. Ye best be gettin t' plunderin'!

MSU 44 ND 41 Are you kidding me?!

To my Irish friends, I feel for ya. Honest! Think back to last Halloween, MSU was beating Michigan pretty well, at least until the mir-frickin-aculous Wolverine comeback. Does this sound familiar? No? Ok, how about this? Triple fucking overtime. Does that ring any bells? So yeah, I been there.

BUT NOW IT'S OUR TURN!! WOO-HOO! And to win it the way we lost to Michigan last year.

Yes, Virginia. There is a God!

Pit Viper

I love working in an office, really I do. The building I work in houses 3 divisions, plus a warehouse. It's great, full of disgruntled employees and way too many incompetent managers. Add to this a huge mix of "temporary" employees. "Temporary" meaning our company's too cheap to step up to the plate and offer them benes like they should.

One of the unfortunate benefits of having so many "temps" around is the mistakes they make. You see, where I work is right outta Wisteria Lane, except t'aint no one near as good lookin' as you see on TV. When a newcomer arrives, there's a whole subdivision which circles their prey, not offering an ounce of assistance, but for sure loaded for bear when that poor newbie crosses a line. Any line. Line in the sand, line on your forehead, lunch line, you name it. It usually starts out with an incredulous "Didn't you know?!" Well duh! How could they? There isn't ONE training manual in the fargin' place. And you've gotta love a company whose employee handbook is a PDF file on a network drive.

That said, I just HAVE to share with you a typical e-mail pounce by one of our Queens. She has an incredible wit, and is sharp as hell. Let me set the scene: the original message is from the latest H.R. temp to split the fold. She lasted all of about 2 months. Young, might have had a degree, and spent a-lot of time planning a wedding. . ..

I just wanted to send out a quick email letting everyone know how much i
have enjoyed working here at [Your Company Here]. I wanted to thank everyone
for being so kind and welcoming to me. Monday i will be starting a new job
at [Horrors! It's a charter school] in their HR department. I will truly miss
working here.

Thanks again for everything and best wishes to all of you.

Nice. Warm enough to not burn a bridge, but oh, the veiled passive-aggressive "so kind and welcoming". She's good!

All hail the queen:

No Stompy, Thank YOU. For getting the hell out of here. Your voice and
the sound of your thighs rubbing together as you stomp by has been
grating on my nerves for far too long now. And you'll never make any of us
believe that you really think Skippy is funny. So now you can quit laughing at
his lame ass jokes.

I hope she learns that "I" should be capitalized regardless of where it
is used in the sentence. They probably don't teach that in History 101.

Buy, Stompy. Farwell. Yule bee mist.

How can you compete with that? Some nights, I can't sleep.

Violate Me: Chapter Two

I was reading Shan's post today about one of those unfortunate procedures some that walk this Earth must endure. Luckily, I'm one of the hominids keeping myself pure for just the right, er-, woman. I was, however, a victim of a much more inhumane "treatment" maybe 10 years ago.

During a routine physical for a new job, some blood was detected in my bodily fluid-waste. The next step was to go to a urologist for a more thorough "exam". Thorough is an understatement, this was the mother of all exams. First you're turned into a lab rat, made to lie on a table while they inject you with Josef Mengele's secret formula that makes your head want to explode. You can taste metal, you're sweating head-to-toe, and you have to lay still for something like 19 X-Rays while they track this junk's path through your bodily filtration system and into your bladder. Just when you think they're done, they make you go empty your bladder and come back for one more. "Nice guys, I wonder what they do for fun on weekends?" I think to myself. A real, live pissing contest. The fun was just beginning.

After waiting for the 20lbs of celluloid to be developed, I get to transport them to the big U's office. They were fascinating to look at really, showing kidneys and other stuff working the junk to the bladder. Big U thought he might see a common deformation where the mesh in the middle of your kidney is loosely formed, thereby allowing a few blood cells to pass though every now and then. "Nothing to worry about" says he, "but we'll need to do one more test to be sure." Okey-dokey, what's the harm? How bad could it be?

"Put on this gown and get nekkid" was the next instruction. Okay, that's not EXACTLY what he said, but you get my drift. You gotta love those paper gowns they give nowadays, the thing was slipping off my shoulder so much I felt a bit like the girl in Flashdance, but more like Jodie Foster in The Accused right about the time she decided she din't want to dance no more. Especially when I spied more of Mengele's tools on a table nearby, one of them looked a bit like a fiber-optic cable. Uh-oh. He's going in for a better look.

Now, before they violate a man front-wise like, they shoot some numbing gel up there first. Knowing this, I think it makes the good Doctor more careless. After all, the road's already been paved, so to speak. After a few minutes, when 'Slick Willy' is in no mood to fight, the Insertion Procedure begins. His first words were, and this is no joke: "Relax." Like I should just lie back and learn to enjoy myself or something. At least the ladies get stirrups, and the proctos get knocked out. I'm sitting there watching the guy struggle to jam the damn thing up my l'il Jimmy and I'm supposed to relax?!

Of course, this isn't bad enough. Before he can look through the scope, it needs to be cleaned. This process involves a fluid being flushed through the scope, which promptly then follows the path the scope has created and you basically urinate all over yourself. Nice warm feeling. The- *ahem*- 'pinnacle' of all this abuse, was when the good Doctor, now satisfied with his work, proudly declares that I have a "beautiful bladder". So I've got THAT going for me. Which is nice.

At least he didn't leave a finsky on the dresser.

Where did summer go? Vol. II

Man, how time flies. I can't believe how fast the sun seems to set nowadays. Too fast.

WAY. TOO. FAST.

We were fortunate to have good times with great family and friends. And can you tell that I love the water? (Well, at least when I can touch bottom, anyways.) So, let's go for a trip around my world, so to speak. Starting at 11, you've got a young Nephew finishing up a little project I'll call Fiefdom of Dreams because if you build it, "They" will come. They always do, the li'l rascals; every fiefdom dies a quick death underneath Keds, sandals and water shoes. With valor. The 1:00 cherub smashing another fortress (with glee, I might add) is a friend's daughter.

3:00 siesta is occupied by another friend, my great college buddy. He's a 'sangineer' (sand castle engineer) and built the 1:00 fortress. He knows more techniques than anyone should; if he had the time I think he'd love to enter one of those sand sculpting contests coming to a beach near you. At the bottom of the hour is the deck that was my 'Summer Project' which began on Father's Day weekend. THAT was fun. (Did I mention that this was the hottest summer in at least 5 years?) After opening weekend, it was an after work project interrupted by our summer trip Up North, some golf, and a few business trips too. Drilling and screwing each board down was a thrilling monotony of indescribable proportions. It's not perfect, but it's finished- at least until I put some skirting around it to keep varmints (real or otherwise) from under it.

8:30 has Daughter and 1/2Twin sampling some 'fruits of the fire'. S'mores are great, aren't they? Finally, at 10:30 I just HAD to let a sunset into the fray, if for nothing more than the symbolism of the passing season.

Thanks for touring with me. Now, tell me about your favorite memories from this summer!