The other day I was tagged by the very funny new friend to VeggieMacabre, Amanda Blog and Kiss. The tag was to take a picture of yourself without looking in the mirror or combing the hair or checking for spinach in the teeth. I would tag others but I’m always afraid no one would follow and I would hold a grudge. (3 woulds!)
Here’s mine.
Like my office? I feel like I have been moved into the basement and had my stapler confiscated. Oh FDID, please hurry. If I have to listen to another two hour online tutorial on network software applications I may just start eating my shoe. That’s a section 8 that should excuse me from this torture.
You should try this! And visit Amanda. All good stuff.
Almost kept a puppy! I was driving to the hospital a few weeks ago and this little guy ran out in front of me. I stopped, got out, fully expecting him to run away, and tied to see if I could read his tag. Instead of timid little guy he jumped straight into my arms. Of course he didn’t have a tag so I was forced to knock on all the neighboring houses looking for the possible owners. No luck so I put him in the car and took off to attend a course that I was already ten minutes late for.
I came real close to buying the big box condo last Friday during a structure fire. Apparently, when I was on a single hose line a high voltage wire snapped from the heat of the fire and landed on the ground next to me causing a huge electrical arch that chard the ground around me, fried the hose and created a big blue light over top of me. I was oblivious to this until I heard screaming over my radio from the incident commander that I was on a live wire and to drop the hose. I did so and was stuck in one spot until the electric company could come out and turn off the electricity. Since then I have been a luck charm for the company and other stations. But I still have the creeps since everyone including the electrician kept repeating that there is no reason that I should have survived that. So technically, I shouldn’t be here writing you.
The fire departments have been consolidating and that means my hours have been cut pretty dramatically. So, I have been forced to dust off the ol’ resume’ and now I find myself back in corporate America until they finish the rezoning of the fire agencies. It’s cool I guess. I work as a consultant for a company that streamlines large businesses as far as their digital postage, copy, office supply and equipment. The first day on the job everyone called me Jim Halpurt. Great.
Last week it was 68 and beautiful. For the first time I was able to leave the confines of the shack that had been buried in snow to cruise the logging trails on a warm afternoon run. It was glorious! I had not felt this good in months and to see the snow gone and the lake completely free of ice made me want to…to…do everything! I wanted swim, no, run a marathon or ride bikes or play guitar by a campfire. Shit, there isn’t enough time. And there wasn’t. Today I got up and looked out my window to see this. Shit I did.
In defiance, I went running anyway. In shorts and a t-shirt none the less. I know it looks pretty but it’s almost May and I need this crap to go. Please mother nature. Take pity on this boy from the south east. He knows not what he’s done.
Holy shit this is a great movie! Sure the more sophisticated summer movie connoisseur would pick Caddy Shack if given the choice of Bill Murray movies but there is something about camp that gets me in the summer mood. It kind of sucks that I am too old even to be a counselor but it brings back so many great memories. Memories like late night practical jokes on other cabins, the nervous tension of being forced to spend a week bunking with kids you don’t know, the sadness of the last campfire, and how we all thought the counselors were so cool and the subject of camp rumors and gossip. I still remember thinking that a blow job was something done to an ear. I want that innocence back.
Rumor has it this kid was in mid-stream when this picture was taken. That’s a lie, but it kind of looks that way, huh? Anyway, I grew up in a neighborhood that didn’t have a community pool so we were forced to jump through the sprinklers or breakout what my Dad called the “yard killer”; the kiddie pool. I remember these plastic pools from K-Mart to be as much fun as they look above. Even for an only child who had an imagination that could keep him entertained for an eternity during Catholic mass, this pool, with floating pine needles and drowned yellow jackets, really sucked. Especially when you have a friend over and the suck is multiplied by two. Ugh! I can still smell the hose water and see the pool toys that were just fancy McDonald Happy Meal boxes in the shape of boats.
The next step up is being invited to the friend’s neighborhood pool. That’s an exciting summer day.
Wow…sharks and minos, underwater tea parties, chicken, handstands, cannonballs, jackknives, and of course my famous 1/3 flip off the diving board. That’s always good for a laugh. I also remember the packed lunch and how Hi-C, peanut butter sandwiches, Doritos and Sunkist Fun Fruits never tasted so good. I tried it the other day and it just isn’t the same without chlorine and uncontrollable shivering.
First off, it’s a place I generally drink beer and read. Those are the two things I didn’t do when I was a kid. Also I rarely go into the water because it is usually occupied by 12 year olds and that age group really pisses me off in recreational environments. It’s just a great time to catch up with a good book, drink a dozen beers and sweat them out while working on a one-sided tan because I hate laying on my stomach. I can never get comfortable. Are you suppose to stick your face between the chair straps?
Anything that comes in one of these is great. If it is served by this guy it will be a minor explosion of amazing.
Pasta salad is the must at all outdoor activities that includes food. If I am present at a picnic and the is no pasta salad expect me to remove the picnic blanket and use it as a cape as I run around and step on the rest of the food. Expect it.
Couple of dogs and a beer. It’s hard to imagine lips, assholes and yeast to be a summer must but it is. Especially at a weekday 1pm Cubbies game when you skip work to go. “Heyyy batta batta, sawingg batta!! He can’t hit he Can’t hit he can’t hit…”
Quarter sliced watermelon that is wrapped in Reynold’s Wrap. Don’t know why but this is summer to me. But every time I eat watermelon I get a dull pain in my tongue from a watermelon eating race gone bad back in 1985. I remember I bit my tongue and lost the race. As I sat there in failure, holding ice wrapped in a paper towel on my tongue, I was awarded a “nice try” gift. It was bubbles. Insult!
Do I really need to expand on this one? It’s part of the reason the Earth tilts on it’s axis, you know. But remember, if you see Megadeth this summer, leave the laser pointer at home. See below. I’m pretty sure the guy in the audience is no longer with us.
Casserole of Disaster 