Is there anything worse than burning yourself? Cooking breakfast for No. 2, the birthday boy, I reached for the pan of fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon rolls. Without the hot pad. There really isn't anything comparable to the sound of sizzling flesh.
Or the stream of profanities unleashed after flesh stops sizzling and begins to F'ing hurt.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I've broken a few of these
Got this off a link from gorillamask.net (one of the funniest sites on the Web)
Top Ten WTF? US Sex Laws from collegetimes.com
1. Oral sex is illegal in 18 states, including Arizona. (That's just wrong)
2. In Virginia, it is illegal to have sex with the lights on. (depends on if it's a 2 a.m. pick up or not)
3. It is illegal for husbands in Willowdale, Ore., to talk dirty during intercourse. (Mud, filth, sweat grime).
4. Sexual intercourse between unmarried couples is illegal in Georgia. (whole lot of scofflaws in the ATL).
5. Engaging in any sexual position other than missionary is illegal in Washington, DC. ( what about with Marion Barry and a crack pipe?)
6. In Connorsville, Wisconsin, it is illegal for a man to shoot off a gun when his female partner is having an orgasm. ( No need. If she's orgasming, she's already seeing fireworks).
7. In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, it is illegal to have sex with a truck driver inside a toll booth. (Huh? Is that even possible?)
8. Having sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal in Florida. ( Do I make you horny, Baby? well don't get all prickly about it)
9. It is illegal in Utah to marry your first cousin before the age of 65. (After that she's not hot enough any more).
10. Sex with animals is perfectly legal for men in Washington state, as long as the animal weighs less than 40 pounds. (Aye, chihuahua!)
Top Ten WTF? US Sex Laws from collegetimes.com
1. Oral sex is illegal in 18 states, including Arizona. (That's just wrong)
2. In Virginia, it is illegal to have sex with the lights on. (depends on if it's a 2 a.m. pick up or not)
3. It is illegal for husbands in Willowdale, Ore., to talk dirty during intercourse. (Mud, filth, sweat grime).
4. Sexual intercourse between unmarried couples is illegal in Georgia. (whole lot of scofflaws in the ATL).
5. Engaging in any sexual position other than missionary is illegal in Washington, DC. ( what about with Marion Barry and a crack pipe?)
6. In Connorsville, Wisconsin, it is illegal for a man to shoot off a gun when his female partner is having an orgasm. ( No need. If she's orgasming, she's already seeing fireworks).
7. In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, it is illegal to have sex with a truck driver inside a toll booth. (Huh? Is that even possible?)
8. Having sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal in Florida. ( Do I make you horny, Baby? well don't get all prickly about it)
9. It is illegal in Utah to marry your first cousin before the age of 65. (After that she's not hot enough any more).
10. Sex with animals is perfectly legal for men in Washington state, as long as the animal weighs less than 40 pounds. (Aye, chihuahua!)
Sink or swim
After contemplating for weeks, I finally got off my butt and bought a pedestal sink to replace the leaky, rust-stained thing I had in the hovel's lone bathroom.
A Father's Day gift card from Lowe's covered the majority, the rest came from Mr. Checking Account.
Pop Quiz: How many times did Mr. Bad Example have to go to the hardware store, not including the initial trip to Lowe's?
Answer: If you guessed three, you win . . . nothing. But you are correct.
In all my misadventures in Home Improvement, I've never, I repeat, never gotten it right on the first try. It stands to reason -- if I could get it right, I would be a plumber, carpenter or handyman.
But I soldiered on.
It's funny how removal, usually, is the easy part. I say usually because I've gone to put in a water line for an ice maker only to have the ancient copper tubing crumble at the wall, water spraying everywhere and the shut off valve nowhere to be found on the property.
This time, however, there was no real drama.
1. Turn off water? Check.
2. Unscrew all lines? Check.
3. Remove sink and cabinet? Check.
Cleaning ensued and the process of installing the loomed.
After removing everything from the package, Problem No. 1 surfaced -- the water supply lines weren't the right size at the wall. So instead checking to see if there were any other problems, off we go to Ace for a remedy.
With Problem No. 1 solved, sort of, I was back at it piecing the lavatory sink together.
Only to find out the hot-water supply line with half-inch at the faucet and three-eighths at the wall. Round 2.
Only this time, I decided to make sure I didn't need anything else. Learning, slowly, but learning.
And find something I did. It seems the P-trap, that's the curvy thing at the bottom of the drain for you non-plumbing types, was about a half inch off. If the P-trap lines up with the wall drain, the down-spout drain didn't meet the P-trap at a perpendicular angle. And vise versa.
Back to Ace.
It's funny how you're greeted the second and third time in a hardware store on the same day -- "Didn't work, huh?" the clerk who helped me the first time asked.
I wonder if they have a tally sheet to see how many times dumbasses like me return.
Well, we found the right hot-water line and a flex P-trap line. Then I was off to pick up No. 2 at a birthday party. No more going back to Ace for me today -- they closed at 5 p.m. and it was already 4:15 p.m.
So pick up the kid, make small talk and head home to finally finish my project?
Yeah, right.
The flex trap had gender issues -- both sides wanted to be female. Shit, I can't have a lesbian sink. I need it fixed.
Back to the scene of the crime -- Lowe's.
Return the faucet hardware (the one that came with the sink turned out to be OK after all) and look for a non-transgender P-trap. Gotcha.
Then like magic, things start coming together. Lines connect, putty is put in place. Water is turned on and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . it drains. No leaks (for now, the realist in me knows it will leak eventually).
But for now, I have a sink that works, isn't rust-stained and stops dripping when you turn it off.
And it only took six hours to install. A new record.
A Father's Day gift card from Lowe's covered the majority, the rest came from Mr. Checking Account.
Pop Quiz: How many times did Mr. Bad Example have to go to the hardware store, not including the initial trip to Lowe's?
Answer: If you guessed three, you win . . . nothing. But you are correct.
In all my misadventures in Home Improvement, I've never, I repeat, never gotten it right on the first try. It stands to reason -- if I could get it right, I would be a plumber, carpenter or handyman.
But I soldiered on.
It's funny how removal, usually, is the easy part. I say usually because I've gone to put in a water line for an ice maker only to have the ancient copper tubing crumble at the wall, water spraying everywhere and the shut off valve nowhere to be found on the property.
This time, however, there was no real drama.
1. Turn off water? Check.
2. Unscrew all lines? Check.
3. Remove sink and cabinet? Check.
Cleaning ensued and the process of installing the loomed.
After removing everything from the package, Problem No. 1 surfaced -- the water supply lines weren't the right size at the wall. So instead checking to see if there were any other problems, off we go to Ace for a remedy.
With Problem No. 1 solved, sort of, I was back at it piecing the lavatory sink together.
Only to find out the hot-water supply line with half-inch at the faucet and three-eighths at the wall. Round 2.
Only this time, I decided to make sure I didn't need anything else. Learning, slowly, but learning.
And find something I did. It seems the P-trap, that's the curvy thing at the bottom of the drain for you non-plumbing types, was about a half inch off. If the P-trap lines up with the wall drain, the down-spout drain didn't meet the P-trap at a perpendicular angle. And vise versa.
Back to Ace.
It's funny how you're greeted the second and third time in a hardware store on the same day -- "Didn't work, huh?" the clerk who helped me the first time asked.
I wonder if they have a tally sheet to see how many times dumbasses like me return.
Well, we found the right hot-water line and a flex P-trap line. Then I was off to pick up No. 2 at a birthday party. No more going back to Ace for me today -- they closed at 5 p.m. and it was already 4:15 p.m.
So pick up the kid, make small talk and head home to finally finish my project?
Yeah, right.
The flex trap had gender issues -- both sides wanted to be female. Shit, I can't have a lesbian sink. I need it fixed.
Back to the scene of the crime -- Lowe's.
Return the faucet hardware (the one that came with the sink turned out to be OK after all) and look for a non-transgender P-trap. Gotcha.
Then like magic, things start coming together. Lines connect, putty is put in place. Water is turned on and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . it drains. No leaks (for now, the realist in me knows it will leak eventually).
But for now, I have a sink that works, isn't rust-stained and stops dripping when you turn it off.
And it only took six hours to install. A new record.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
What's in a name?
Apparently, quite a bit if you're 10 or 8.
The word "Dick" came up in dinner conversation, which turned into a rip-snorting good time for B and T. Actually, it was almost soda-snorting-out-the nose good time for TJ, who almost lost it.
The "offending word" came up when the TV music station began playing Moby's "South Side."
"Cool, Moby," I said to anyone and no one.
"Isn't that a book?" No. 1 asked.
"You mean 'Moby Dick'?" I replied.
Laughs all around.
"You guys are laughing at 'Dick'?" I asked.
More snickers.
"You know," I said in my best "I remember-when-candy-cost-a-nickel-and-gas-was-under-a-buck" voice, "Dick is actually a nickname for Richard."
Crickets.
"You know, just like Jack is a nickname of John," I told them.
"Why wouldn't you just want to be called Rich?" No. 1 asked.
"Because not everything used to be dirty," I said. "You do know that gay really"
"Means happy," No. 2 interjected.
"Yes," I said.
"Still," No. 1 said, "I think I'd stick with Rich."
Indeed.
The word "Dick" came up in dinner conversation, which turned into a rip-snorting good time for B and T. Actually, it was almost soda-snorting-out-the nose good time for TJ, who almost lost it.
The "offending word" came up when the TV music station began playing Moby's "South Side."
"Cool, Moby," I said to anyone and no one.
"Isn't that a book?" No. 1 asked.
"You mean 'Moby Dick'?" I replied.
Laughs all around.
"You guys are laughing at 'Dick'?" I asked.
More snickers.
"You know," I said in my best "I remember-when-candy-cost-a-nickel-and-gas-was-under-a-buck" voice, "Dick is actually a nickname for Richard."
Crickets.
"You know, just like Jack is a nickname of John," I told them.
"Why wouldn't you just want to be called Rich?" No. 1 asked.
"Because not everything used to be dirty," I said. "You do know that gay really"
"Means happy," No. 2 interjected.
"Yes," I said.
"Still," No. 1 said, "I think I'd stick with Rich."
Indeed.
My favorite photo
As a writer, I'm OK (we're all self-deprecating, you know). As a photographer? Let's just say I shouldn't quit my night job just yet.
Still, every once in a while, I get it. that shot that makes me stand back and say, "Wow."
This is from a hiking trp I took with the boys about four years and 100 pounds ago.
We are on a trek up to the top of Maggie's Peak rising above Lkae Tahoe at Emerald Bay. Brady stood on the rock overlooking the lake, and I snapped.
Even a blind squirrel gets a nut.
The patriotic alternative
No firework on the Fourth of July? Even for an in-the-closet Communist, that's just downright un-American.
So we hopped in the Family Truckster and journeyed up to Mount Shasta's fesitval of blowing shit up.
The boys and I found friends. I chatted, they played, Brady flirted with a girl "he doesn't like' (ah, to be 11 years old again).
Then it got dark. And we saw fireworks.
While I didn't think they were all that good (although I was looking from behind the lens), the kids all thought it was great. And afterall, isn't that what it's about?
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