More Very Unimportant Stuff

Day 2

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 02:45:00 +0000

Thank you Sonja for pointing out my messed up dates. Like you may have noticed, concentration is in high demand around here. So is time travel...

The entire beer thing was a fucking disaster, for lack of better words. I drank quite a bit, in hopes that It would fuel some sort of creative writing spree. In hindsight, all it did was make me go pee, and be in trouble when my wife arrived home. I didn't finish my cleaning duties (honestly - I didn't even really start them). I had no thoughts of writing at all, but did toss around the idea of dying my hair blonde. The only reason I didn't, is because I don't have much hair, and I would have to make eyebrows match so it was a washout on that front. I'll do a lot of things, but I probably won't be dying my eyebrows. Now that it's about 12 hours later, I'm glad that I didn't let fear and common sense stop me from making that good decision.

So it's much later at night and I'm feeling pretty spontaneous. However, my focus is still lacking. My wife is watching Jack and Jill on the Roku. I would rather cut my eyelids off and stare at the sun rather than watch that trash. It's nasty. Probably the largest waste of $5 I've had all day. Amazon should be ashamed of evening offering this but anyways... I digress. Where the hell was I?

I worked up some good topics today, but they were lost in the mayhem of living. We have this stray dog that for some reason we've just invited in our house. I named him Ben. He's a super charming Border Collie, but obviously isn't house trained. This is proving to be almost as disastrous as my drinking and trying to write. The only large difference being is that I don't pee on the furniture (not normally anyways). About the time I almost come up with something magnificent, he drives his nose into my crotch and... well - it's gone.

So, just know - it's very close. Through process of elimination, I've deduced that beer, and stray dogs are not conducive to writing. Neither is Jack and Jill. My toes hurt and I can feel the left side of my brain trying to overtake the right side of my brain. I'm going to quit right here and call it a night. I will have my notepad next to me to jot down brilliance should it shower down on myself tonight.

The Unimportant Writing Project

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 18:39:00 +0000

After spending weeks meticulously combing through proposed ideas for a large writing assignment, Jeni wins! I do have to give an honorable mention to culdesacchronicals for being runner up though... In reality, these were my only two ideas, but I did spend weeks pouring over them so it's not too far off from what I said. Whatever.

There's a new page up there /\ titled "The Writing Experiment". This will be the sandbox for my initial book ______ (yes - no name yet) where I will illustrate, in all it's glory, the process a very unskilled writer must go through to produce something worth reading. At the moment, the sandbox appears to be full of 'other misc. thoughts' but there's a possibility that might change. I'm hoping when I'm through - I'll be able to pick out the pieces out that will make up a book. Either that, or be able to calculate how much beer I consumed in a certain time span. I think both could be interesting to a given audience.

Just a small heads up before you go over there... I'm having some issues staying on topic - but I'm working the kinks out.

Writing Stuff That Is Unimportant

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 03:08:00 +0000

So I've been having some thoughts lately of really writing something - like a book. I have absolutely everything I need except a topic, time, ambition, and skill. I do however, have some beer and the ability to build nice things out of wood. I also find myself thinking a lot about airplanes and other assorted things. I've been waiting for the last few weeks for all these things to sort of meld themselves into a tidy something that I could magically present to a publisher who in turn would publish (obviously), and sell for lots of $$.

I'm wondering tonight if my goal of two weeks might have been a little short? Oddly enough, nothing has transformed itself into a book yet. I've checked back with my word editor a couple times and there hasn't really been a self healing thing transpire, or anything transpire for that matter - not even a sentence. I've also ran out of beer so...

Now I'm forced to do this the real way. I've studied a few online resources, read a few essays, and gathered some terrific insight. In all my research I really only ran across one person that not only thinks I could write a book - he thinks I should write a book. Everyone else pretty much said that I needed some skills of some sort, goals, an outline (what the hell is that?), something to write about blah blah blah. Bastards. Hell, there's over a million people just like myself on this site alone that have proven they can write with the same handicaps I have.

Scott Berkun is the guy that thinks I should write a book, if for no other reason - for myself. He's a published writer, professional speaker, and pretty much a one man think tank. I guess I don't need a lot of reasons, and as Scott mentioned in one of his blog posts - I don't really need anyone's permission. Anyways, this isn't a Scott Berkun advertisement, but I did download his latest book, MindFire. Fascinating, at least to me.

I will need a topic to write about. Since I'm asking you, that sort of narrows it down to fiction very quickly. But non fiction wouldn't be out of the realm either, as most people that have come by here know the high spots of my life (and maybe a few low spots). The unfortunate part is, it's rehearsed and edited. I write about the things I want to write about, safe things that are alright for everyone to know about, except for the few times I've sort of incriminated my wife. It was purely by accident and I was looking for sympathy. It's been weeks since she's tried to set me on fire but anyways - where the hell was I?

Any and all ideas will be taken into consideration. I think I would like to start out with a few essays, or maybe just one essay. I have a lot of topics that I could write about, but I would really like the challenge of writing about something that I didn't contrive, or think about too much before hand.

It's up to you, all 3 of you to feed me some topics. I'm really ready to write something interesting and less unimportant. Please keep in mind, that I'm not all that intelligent and have issues keeping up with even our local news so please base your topics on that criteria. I want a challenge, not something impossible.

Hating Myself

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 03:00:00 +0000

About every 7.25 years, I have an epiphany of epic proportions. Today was the day. Mysteriously, I've deduced why I hate my myself. I should preface this quickly by throwing in the disclaimer that I haven't had thoughts of jumping out of my pickup while it's driving and no one has had to talk me down from the ledge (not for a while anyways). It's just that I know myself pretty well, and can't deny that I have a little inner conflict. Actually, maybe a lot? Shit - how does one know? I'm sure I came equipped with a conflict-o-meter, but not sure where it is. Anyways, I digress...

It just occurred to me that I was conceived by my mother and father. Logically, the argument could be made that about 50% of my genetics, plus or minus a few genes, was passed to me by both my father and mother.

Well, they sort of hated each other. Not really to the point where one would wait for the other to go to sleep and then stab them with toothpicks... but they just didn't get along very well. That would explain the divorce.

So - if they didn't like each other and I'm about 50% of each them COMBINED... Well it's no wonder I have some issues. One half of me is spending entirely way too much time fighting with the only other half that's left.

Funny thing is, half of me feels good about this conclusion and the other half doesn't.

I should go now.

Hormonal?

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 17:33:00 +0000

So... Maybe I might have left a few things out of the last post. No, we haven't added anymore children to the kid farm. Not yet anways... not for another 7 months. I know I vowed to not drink the water anymore as I was sure that had something to do with our high conception rate. Wifey was sure it had something to do with the beer I consume on a very regular basis (beer is good for more things than just breakfast... but that's for later). As luck would have it, I assumed I was right and drank more beer as to avoid the water. Wifey may have been right all along.

Wifey can be a little cranky at the best of times. For those that have followed this blog, all 3 of you, you may remember the times when she kicked me down the stairs, lit me on fire, and other things she did to show her authority. She was not hormonal for any of this. Now... she's all that and then some with the extra hormones. We just recently had this conversation early this morning:

Me: "I love you honey"
Wifey: "I would like to drive a screwdriver through your right eye"

I decided it would be an excellent morning to 'clean' a little and put all sharp and pointy objects away. I'm still using my right eye, so it's working so far...

Avid Readers

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 05:09:00 +0000

It was starting to look as if the only time I posted was when we introduced a new kid into our child farming project, or if someone flew plane into the IRS building. Well... no new children, and to the best of my knowledge - no one has tried to park their Cessna in the local IRS building. We still have the farm though. With the bad economy and such, kids aren't worth much. Ours are pretty small, so selling them by the pound doesn't make much business sense either. Anyways, sometimes I post just for the pure hell of it.

So I was going through some shit on the internet and stumbled across a link to this, my blog. The entire Blogger thing has changed since I last posted. I was surprised when I checked out the new dash board that the stats were showing people still come to this blog (in the good ol' days, I used to use something like sitemeter for this task). This is proof positive that people have way too much time to do nothing, and enjoy shit.

I'm one of those people too, minus the too much time.

I would post a picture of myself but I've gotten much uglier. I miss blogging. I'll be posting some more.

Joe Stack

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 01:53:00 +0000

I should probably start this with a disclaimer that flying your plane into a building is wrong - no matter what the reason. It ranks right in there with beating women and drinking Scotch. They are just not morally right.

Oddly enough - had Joe not flown his plane into the IRS building, I would have never read his letter... and neither would you. This is how we roll. The media would not have had the chance to make this a news feeding frenzy by labeling Joe as a "Borderline Terrorist", and the FBI taking over all internet media associated with Joe Stack. What the hell? Immediately after the crash buzz words were being introduced such as "disturbing rant" etc, etc. There is a fine line between disturbing rant and just trying to be heard.

Everyone should read Joe's letter. The man was neither deranged or disturbed. He was a man that simply had a few more reasons to die, than to live for. According to his letter, the IRS and government were mostly responsible for this.

I'm not going to get into the meaning of the letter, or what Joe was trying to convey. All I can say is you should probably read it and draw your own conclusions. You will be enlightened, if not inspired to make a change.

Most importantly though - make sure your reasons to live always outweigh the reasons to die.

Holy Catshit Batman

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 00:07:00 +0000

So there has been a lot of changes in the last few years... maybe I was a little optimistic about that statement in my last post. We've added a few chillens to the farm and stuff, but occupation wise, I'm still doing virtually what I was doing before. My work still drags my ass away from home to odd and unusual places.

So tonight I found myself checking into a motel that required sign language to check in. The only thing worse than my verbal communication skills would be my sign language. The desk clerk and I spent a titillating 5 mins exchanging hand gestures and looks of horror. Some day I will stay in a town that has a real hotel. Obviously that won't be today. I left the foreign front desk clerk emotionally scarred. Now he knows how everyone else feels that I come into contact with.

After finishing our session of Charades, I pulled around the gravel parking lot, let Kiley out, and started dragging my endless amount of shit into my new very used motel room. I was just in the process of dragging my second load of shit out of the pickup when I heard Kiley bark and kick gravel all over. She was chasing a cat/leopard. Did I mention I left the fucking door open on the motel room?

So... Yes. The leopard made a frantic leap to get away from Kiley and decided our room would be a nice place to hole up. Kiley didn't chase the cat inside because she's not allowed to go through doors without being told... more than I can say for the cat that was holed up in our room.

So I carefully approached the door. The cat was perched on the sink at the far end of the room and obviously not very happy. It was making a sound sort of like a very sick John Deere garden tractor (that's the best I can do). Kiley was perched at the door waiting for a second chance. I was mostly hoping I could just die.

Having had some bad experiences with wild cats in the past, I decided I should approach this situation very carefully. Slowly, I crept into the room and over the single bed hugging the wall as I went. I started feeling pretty proud of my stalking ability until the tiger noticed I was gaining ground on it. Immediately it hissed, backed into the corner and spit at me. At this point I decided some protective gear would be good. It just so happened there was a bedspread/ashtray next to me. I completely cloaked myself in this covering most of my head only leaving my eyes exposed. If God hates a coward - He would despise me.

I only took about two steps towards the psycho cat when it decided to vacate the room. I'm not sure if it was the sight of the KKK cat guy, or the thought of having to spend a night in the filth that Kiley and were going to have to endure but at any rate - the cat left and in a hurry.

Feeling victorious, I chased the cat to the door. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the killer cat as it ran for it's life was quickly replaced with a feeling of horror as I seen the front desk clerk outside my room holding his ice cooler. I would like to say that I felt completely ridiculous standing in my doorway with a bedspread wrapped around all my face and most of my body but that would be an understatement.

I gave him a very weak sign language sign that basically said "Yep - I'm almost settled in and I've been chasing wild fucking cats in my room".

It was a wave and a smile. He returned the same sign as he shuffled back to the office.

This is only the first day.

Farming Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 01:56:00 +0000

Yes... As of July 15, 2009 wifey and I are officially farming children. Just like a real 'farm', we are carefully and strategically raising our crop for sale in the very near future. Currently we have no children for sale, but our oldest is starting to show signs of being ready... we'll keep you posted. Right now it appears that there won't be a shortage of kids. Obviously the conditions must have been ideal for production. I'm guessing it must have been in the water?

We just added a new addition to our already new crop from last year. Boe Ryan unwillingly joined us on July 15, 2009 at 9:00 am. Unlike the scenerio from last year - no state laws were broken (or broken badley) in the process of delivering wifey to the hospital. In fact, the entire process went extremely well. No one was cussed, beaten, or verbally abused in anyway. I call that a successful a delivery.

On a different note, wifey has decided that we are officially done producing stock for our newly formed children farm. The bright side of that is the price should go up on remaining stock... god bless our market economy. The downside is, she has decided that the best route to deter any more production is to have me 'snipped'.

I've opted to just quit drinking the water around here - both wifey and myself. I think that would be a good place to start... whatever. 'Snip' - ummm I think not.

I've been a terrible blogger for so many reasons, I can't and won't list them here. So much has happened and changed over the last two years that I'm not even sure I'm the same person I was. One thing is for sure. If wifey has her way, I'll be almost about the same person but minus some important man parts in the future. Anyways... enough about that.

I plan on keeping a little more on top of my blogging. Everyone that visits here has been extremely patient and I thank you for that. Luckily, everyone that comes here also has to deal with life. Life first - and then blogging. Keep your eyes open for me... I'll be around shortly!!

New Curtain Crawler

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 00:03:00 +0000

The people that come by here are probably some of the most patient people in the world. I thank you for that.

Most importantly - we do have a new member of the family. Bradley Shaw showed up healthy, happy, and completely intact. We couldn't, and probably wouldn't ask for more than that.

It was a process getting him here. Wifey decided that at Midnight, it was time to have him. We are about 30 mins from the hospital so it isn't much of drive. I started off driving mostly normal, but after 15 mins of emotionally scarring language coming from my beautiful wifey - I decided that hyperdrive may be the more appropriate speed for hospital travel. I broke most every law in Texas, and probably a few laws that haven't been instated yet. I pulled up the emergency door where wifey quickly departed the vehicle in a cloud of dust and sonic wrappers... the last words I heard as she was loping through the door was "... You will need to find me... *cuss cuss cuss*". It took awhile to park so when I finally got to the main entrance I was met by a very amused security guard. Through his laughing, he handed me a piece of paper and pointed to the elevator and told me "Good luck... you are going to need it".

It sort of went from bad to even worse at that point. I did finally find wifey. She was in the middle of getting her epidural. Little did she know she wasn't going to react well to this. She spent the rest of the delivery throwing up and didn't even recall having the baby. It was pretty horrible.

Everything else went pretty well. Bradley seemed happy to join us in the outside world. He hasn't acted like he wants to go back anyways... but then again - his life isn't over yet either.

There will be more. I must get my ass back to work.

Kids and Misc Shit

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 00:50:00 +0000

Ya'll are way too good. Thank you for checking up on me.

I haven't been killed in a fiery car crash, or rabid dog attack... no - just life I guess. I caught wifey in a moment of weakness and next thing I know - we are having a baby.

I'm not sure how it all happened, but I can say that it was consensual and somewhat planned. I was just surprised when it happened. I guess all the practice paid off in the end.

His name is going to be Bradley with a middle name of Shaw. For all of you that are gagging, we named him after my great grandfather Max Bradshaw. Hence the 'Brad' and 'Shaw'.

My worst fear is that he might take after is father and mother... this is a genuine concern. He'll need a lot of beatings. I'm not totally religious, but I've found myself praying lately that he isn't at all like me as a child. I don't deserve that... in fact - no one deserves that.

All I know for sure is that along with having a new curtain crawler comes this desire to work a little harder. Not to brag or anything, but I was sort of a worker before. Now I'm working double time because... well - I don't have a clue why. It just seems like the right thing to. That, and wifey is so goddamn cranky, I'm not really allowed to live in the house anymore.

I'm told this is hormones... Maybe wifey has been pregnant all along and I just didn't know it.

Speaking of partially religious - I'm praying she never reads this.

I'll be back sooner than later. I miss all of you.

Dangerous Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 16:16:00 +0000

I received some interesting emails regarding my last post. Unfortunately, I've been away and wasn't able to reply back. I'll do my best to reply in what will hopefully be a short post.

It's funny how when people have something good to say - they generally post it. Those that have some nerve and balls will post negative, or just plain rude things (Yes - BBC, I'm looking at you). There are a few people that slide in to this blog with none of the afore mentioned traits - they leave emails. That's cool. It's all good. I try to reply back - normally in the form of post rather than a reply email.

Apparently there were a few readers that were concerned for the safety of our children. What these readers don't know is that it wasn't just 'our' children - we also involve the cousins in this crazy game too. Wifey and I wouldn't be satisfied with endangering just our kids..... no - we have to bring in outside children for our own satisfaction. When you have something this dangerous - why not share a little?

In the good 'ol days, before we were equipped to wage paintball wars, we used to send the kids out in busy traffic with sticks and let them have at each other. Depending on the time of day, traffic was the determining factor for the level of difficulty - not the speed of the stick or how hard it was swung at another child.... However, the 'chasing with sticks in busy traffic' eventually lost it's luster as it became 'boring' to them. With all the shotgunning we (the kids and I) do around here, our neighbors moved away which resulted in a significant decrease in traffic thus, removing the difficulty from the game. Wifey and thought long and hard for something that would be a step up. We settled on painball stuff because I knew for a fact that it hurt like hell to get shot with a paintball. I won't get into how I know this - not now anyways

Paintballing is dangerous. I won't argue that fact at all. In fact, my entire left side looks like a purple leopard after our last game. Luckily we all wear face masks, or I would probably be missing an eye, nostril, and most definitely would have lost my left ear. All the kids seem to be very intrigued with shooting me in the head... I'm not sure if this has something to with the times that I have yelled at them in the past. In any sense - it is dangerous.

Perhaps the most dangerous part of the entire paintball massacre is where the kids all gang up and go after me. It's normally 'them' against me. They have learned (and learned quickly) how to think, make a plan, execute the plan, and change the plan on the fly if they need to. In short - they have become very crafty. They have learned how to communicate with each other, but more importantly - they have learned how to understand each other and accomplish all this under some very severe pressures. They have also learned that with every wrong move, slow thought, and stumble - there are some consequences. Nothing says "Whoops" like a paintball in the ass.

I can't in all honesty deny that paintballing is dangerous. However, it should also be put into perspective. Last time I checked, it was more dangerous to drive, traverse stairs, go to school, or be married. In short, per capita - our children have a higher chance of dying if they participate in any of the above. No, we haven't removed the stairs from our house, quit driving, or got a divorce on the grounds that my wife tried to kill me (Ok, this happened before, but whatever). I'm assuming the two concerned readers have eliminated these these things from their lives - along with the other billion things I didn't mention. They would be hyprocrites if they had not done so.

I'm on the verge of going into a 19 page rant/essay on raising children - but beyond the fact that I'm most likely not qualified (at least in the eyes of two concerned readers), I'm not exactly sure the world is ready for my take on raising kids... so I'll just tell a few stories here and there and let you make your own judgments. In the future I'll try harder to not defend my methods.

In the meantime, I need to wash the paint of my mask and get the guns ready because we are about to start our weekly "Dangerous Day" activities. Wish us luck.

Southern Boy

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 03:46:00 +0000

Last holiday weekend I was shopping with my father in law - an avid hunter. He would really like me to be a hunter also. I never will be.... I guess I lack the instinct or something. Those that have read previous posts know that I like guns. I just don't particularly like to kill animals. Maybe this is because I've been hunted myself a time or two...??? Mostly I'm just lazy and hate cleaning wild game when I can buy a really good steak at the supermarket. Anyways, my father in law and myself were at our local store picking up some paintballs and CO2 so the kids and I could do a little paintballing over the holiday weekend. While strolling around we wandered into the camo clothes section of the store. My father in law didn't start drooling... but he was nearing that point. We came to a rack of shirts that was my size and on sale. The only thing I've done to be a good son in law was I didn't burn down his house when I accidentally started his BBQ grill on fire.... I haven't been the best son in law. I decided I should give a little. I bought the camo shirt as a simple gesture of "give me a chance... I might make a son in law yet".

I've always thought it was a little stupid wearing camo for hunting, and beyond stupid for wearing camo the other 300 days of the year when you aren't hunting. I can understand wearing realtree camo when in the deep jungles of Montana stalking Big Foot or something - but realtree camo in McDonalds isn't hiding you from anything... It just says you're not too smart. Or so I thought.

Upon arriving home, I slipped into my paint ball attire, but decided to wear my fancy new camo shirt to impress my father in law.... We both got a surprise.

Immediately I wanted my wife to fetch me a beer. I wanted to rod my pickup through a mud hole, and most definitely wanted to shoot something and strap it to the hood of my pickup and drive through town so everyone could see what I 'hunted' down and killed. The camo shirt had given me more than super powers - it gave me a giant ego and more confidence than Super Man. I was immediatly ten foot tall and bullet proof.... I gathered up my paintball stuff and went to the front yard to wage a war with the kids.

I no sooner stepped out and started firing when I felt 4 closely grouped shots smash into my ribs.... apparently I wasn't camouflaged or bullet proof. No - I'm mostly just really bruised and pissed off. To make matters even worse... I sort of acted on my first impulse to yell at wifey to fetch me a beer. Wifey doesn't 'fetch' well. In fact - wifey doesn't like to be told what to do.... besides being bruised and pissed off - I also learned that it's much better to get the beer myself and drink it rather than try to absorb it through osmosis. I'm pretty sure the camo shirt filtered out the best parts.

I won't be wearing my camo shirt anytime soon....

Over Here

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sat, 08 Dec 2007 17:42:00 +0000

Like many other people, I have my Sitemeter stats sent and filtered into a buried folder in an email inbox. When the unread number of emails gets over 100, I right click on the folder and make them all 'read'. I never look at them, until this morning. I decided to open the stat for this particular blog.

For the most part, people are still coming here and reading.... even though I'm not posting. Not as many people that used to visit, but still about 80% of them. You are the best, and I'm sorry for not doing a little better job.

I've already used a summer, a dying relative, and my hemorrhoids as an excuse for not posting. The real truth is my wife hates the time that is sucked up in my blogging exploits. Time is something that I used to have plenty of. I had so much, I would waste huge chunks of it sitting on the deck, drinking beer, and reflecting on how my life would have been slightly different as a porn star instead of my current occupation. Those times are gone for good. Now my time is filled with kids homework, cleaning, keeping wifey organized, and keeping wifey organized. I chew up a lot of time on the last two..... wifey loves it, sort of.

I've been gone for a good while, but I'm not gone for good... so many things have happened. I've traveled to some odd and unusual places, built some very weird things, and been attacked by wifey's dog just to mention a few. I'll write more about everything very soon. Just know that since the dog attack I still have a few fingers, my left thigh and a toe left so.... there will be more posting shortly.

Remember Bob Johnson

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 23:46:00 +0000

I received news early this morning that one of my favorite bloggers passed away day before yesterday.

Bob Johnson was not only a frequent commenter on my blog, he was also a good friend. During my marriage dilema when my mother was going to do the honors (don't make me refresh your memory on that one), Bob was the one I asked to apply for the marriage commissioner license. Due to some local municipal issues, he wasn't able to obtain the certificate - but it was the thought that counted. He was an amazing man with an extraordinary insight into all issues.

You will be missed.

You will also be remembered.

Jenni has an excellent write up about Bob that is much more detailed. For those that haven't read "Letters I'd Wish I'd Sent", or "Bobs Odder Blog".... go to Jenni's site, and link over to some of his articles that are published on Associated Press. The link is on Jenni's write up.

The Dog Shit Incident

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 22:24:00 +0000

Thank you Alekx for pointing out the subtle fact that I 'glossed over' the part about Kiley having a shit attack on the way to Santa Rosa NM. Just when everyone thought I was out of titillating topics.... nope. There is always dog shit stories - a lot of dog shit stories. I was going to write about this later but in between ass chewing's and other work related things - this seems like an opportune time.

Kiley goes everywhere with me. She was my first attempt at fatherhood and admittedly I made a few mistakes. She is slightly spoiled. According to wifey, she's a bitch - this is something I can't dispute. Whatever - I tried. She didn't come with an owners manual. Neither did wifey..... I seem to be doing alright.

Anyways, on the way out to Santa Rosa NM we had a little 'issue'. Kiley rides shotgun - always. It could be God himself asking for a ride. He would have to ride in the back seat. This isn't because Kiley is spoiled. No, I do this because it's important for me to be able to see her. Let me explain.

Kiley sleeps for about 90% our travels. She only wakes up for cattle, gophers, dad having road rage, and to shit. The only thing she is remotely subtle about is giving me signs that she has to poop. The only way I can tell is too look at her ears and eyes. Most times she has beautiful princess eyes that say "I love you dad.... you are the best..... what would I do without you". If her ears are standing up at the same time - that's what she means. However, if her left ear is slightly cocked off - that means "Dad.... I love you, but I'm about to have a shit attack like you have never witnessed. You better pull this fucking pickup over and quickly because I'm about to rocket shit everywhere".

Those were the signs I seen while going through a small west TX town. From many prior experiences I knew I had about 12 seconds. Unluckily for the townspeople of this little village, I noticed these signs while pulling up the 4 way stop in the middle of town. No one was behind me, so I jumped out and ran over to the passenger door and let her out. I think she said thank you with her eyes as she was lurched out of the pickup. She didn't go even 3 feet and the rocket shit set in. I've seen this before.... whatever - it's a dog furiously shitting along the side of a main road. Apparently the people in Allsups thought differently. They congregated in the parking lot to watch the amazing shitting dog festival. What could I do? I've been here before.

It took about 30 seconds for the rocket dog shit attack to subside, and then Kiley wanted back in. I obliged and opened the door. As we pulled away from the 4 way stop I waved to the 3 people in the parking lot, noticed someone on the second floor of the courthouse was watching, and the rancher that had pulled up to the other side of the 4 way stop was waving and laughing at me.

Whatever.

At least it wasn't me having the shit attack at the 4 way stop. That would have really give them something to talk about.

Unanswered Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 01:35:00 +0000

Thank you for all the comments on the last post. A quick update - They played son non stop in the last game..... offense and defense. He played well, except for the part where he was tired which was the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th quarter. Beyond that, I proved one more theory. Shit does indeed roll down hill. I sent the letter to the superintendent of our school district. It was the coach that actually called to work out some of the issues. I was away working, so I missed it all but apparently it all was fixed in our favor. God hates a coward.

I'm in Santa Rosa NM tonight. It's a great town. All the billboards say they have 10 hotels and over 19 restaurants. That's probably correct. I should have noticed that they never mentioned a beer store anywhere on the signs. I'm not a beer drinker anymore, but out of principle every town should have a readily accessible place to get beer. Like on every street corner, gas station, and place of business. It's a good thing I'm not the ruler of the lands around here.

There were many things that happened on the 8 hour drive to get here. Some of it involved crawling over medians in Fort Worth, Kiley (my dog) having a shit attack while going through a small west TX town, and last but not least - my dinner experience.

I stopped in a small town and had dinner at a deserted looking place. I'm not a picky eater. I would probably eat the box the food came in if they served it with salt and pepper, so eatery looks don't ever turn me off. I picked this place because there was no one there and I thought I would get faster service. In the middle of munching down my mystery food from the buffet, 3 women walked in dressed in scrubs. My best guess was that they were nurses. They went directly to the buffet and stared at it. I overheard one of the women whisper "I wonder if they have menus in this place?". All three of the women looked at each other blankly and then turned to me, the only other person in the restaurant. In all seriousness she asked me "Do they have menus here?". I replied back in the same no nonsense manner with "no maam.... this place is more into making you feel like your going out to eat at your neighbors. The cook whips up something and just brings it out to ya'll - it's pretty cool". She then asked the question that had to be asked "What did they bring you?". I told her chicken livers and sautéed alfalfa sprouts. It was the best I could do. Hell, for all I know maybe I did have that.

With that, the three women abruptly left the restaurant.

I left my money on the table and quietly exited. I probably put them out of business today.

Small Town Politics

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 00:05:00 +0000

Our son plays football for our local town's grade 7 team. He didn't really want to, but I told him he would get a girlfriend if he played..... I was right. He is loving every second of it.

The other day I get a frantic phone call from wifey saying that son won't be playing in the next game which is the next day, because the school 'lost' his medical information including his sports physical. I was on my way home from Dallas so I called the coach to see what the deal was. Apparently one of the coaching staff had lost sons paperwork along with 6 other kids stuff. The coach informed me that our son wouldn't be playing tomorrow night's game without the sports physical.

I'm not sure how it works in our small towns school world, but imagine the surprise of one of our clients if I called them and said "Yeah.... this is pretty fucking strange, but hear me out.... blah blah blah - you won't be able to participate until you replace the paperwork which I lost"

Simply put, that would equate to me finding a new job. I don't think my boss would understand if word ever got back to him. In fact, the largest piece of my ass would probably fit nicely in my front pocket after he was done chewing on it.

We don't live all that close to our town, so every nights practice is a carefully planned logistics scheme that requires sacrifice for not just me, but my wife and the rest of the family. This is cool, as long as our son gets to play....

So I wrote a very tersely worded letter to the superintendent of our school wanting an explanation and a course of action that the school intended on taking since they 'lost' the paperwork. I also mentioned that very few things are entirely lost - they are normally misplaced. When I misplace something at work, it's my responsibility to turn things inside out until I find it...... In the meantime, I provided a copy of our son's physical to the school so he could play in that nights game.

I guess 'they' received the letter, because at that nights game - our son didn't play. He was dressed and ready, but no play. They benched him.

They fucked with the wrong overzealous parent this time. I'm out of town right now.... but I won't be for long. I'm not sure where small town politics got is start, but I can say for sure by next week - it will have it's end. At least in our small town.

I'm not from a small town.... I'm from nowhere, and in nowhere things are done much differently. I don't recall letters being part of the understanding, settlement and reconciliation process.... I can see why now.

Bio Freeze

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 12:04:00 +0000

I'm truly sorry if I've made my wife out to be a very cranky woman with no sense of humor at all. This is not the case at all as I've found out over the last little while.

My back still hasn't fully recovered from our naked pagan dancing thing we did last summer. Every time I move slightly wrong, it pops and shriek like a little school girl. It's not very manly. The other day I was helping wifey's granny peel some pears and concentrating on not cutting my fingers off. Because of this narrowed concentration, I forgot to 'ease' out of the chair I had been sitting in for most of the morning. My back popped out. I whined.

Once in a while, if I whine long enough, wifey will show some compassion or sympathy. She sometimes conveys these things through unconventional ways such as telling me very quietly "You need to quit bitching about your back - you're the one that messed it up". Other times she takes a much more subtle approach and yells at me.... I know she cares.

I should have been a little more wary the other day. Right before bedtime, wifey showed up with a small package of some blue slimey stuff called 'Bio Freeze'. For those not familiar with this product, it's the industrial version of Icy Hot - the stuff that you rub on sore muscles. I'm not sure what all the ingredients are, but mysteriously it works to numb pretty much any pain any muscle has. I guess wifey figured it would help my back and put an end to my bitching.

I was almost asleep as wifey rubbed the Bio Freeze into my lower back. She leaned forward and whispered in my ear "Is that making your back feel better hon???". From the tone of her voice, I should have known something was going on. I never got the word "yes" out of my mouth, as she squirted a liberal dose of Bio Freeze down the upper part of my ass crack. I awakened immediatly from peaceful slumber. Wifey was laughing like an evil hyena that had eaten something poisonous.

I wanted to escape, but my upper ass had lost all feeling and I wasn't sure if my legs would work. I laid there helpless. Slowly the feeling started coming back - but not really. All I could feel was a hot fire burning in my ass crack. Apparently when Bio Freeze is applied to 'sensitive' area's, it has more of a burning effect than a soothing effect.

Today I'm sort of walking like a penguin with an injured leg. I'll have to explain this to some of the people I work with. I hope the skin comes back to a more natural color. In the meantime, I'm just glad I can walk and my ass hasn't fallen off.

I will never doubt my wifes sense of humor ever again - or let her apply anything to my body either.

We are Hogs

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 02:44:00 +0000

I was looking for a subtle title for this post, and found it. There is no other way to explain this phenomenon we call a house. Despite all my organization, dress wearing, and threatening to beat the kids - this place is truly a wreck.

Are we supposed to live to work, or work to live? Maybe we are just supposed to tear shit up around the house, leave, and hope it puts itself back together while we are gone. Being busy is bullshit. Wifey and I don't even make time to verbally fight like we used to.... Now that's sad.

What's even more depressing, is I know there are people out there that make this work somehow. We aren't the only busy family in America that has time 'issues'. I know many busy people, some single, that mysteriously seem to accomplish all their daily tasks, night shit, and still manage to find time to keep the house looking like it wasn't part of missile testing experiment. This isn't us right now. I brush hogged my yard yesterday. For those not familiar with that term, instead of using like a riding lawn mower, I used a 100 hp tractor and a 12 foot mower to cut our front yard. This is what happens when your grass gets over 10 inches tall. In the process of doing this, I made it easier for next time if I ever decide to use a regular mower.... I don't have those pesky trees, flowers, edging, or deck corner to contend with anymore. Wifey thought it looked a little 'trashy' after I got done.... I'm not sure how she thought it looked before. Abandoned is the only word that comes to mind.

I'm not asking for advice, because that's just not something I would ever do. But if anyone had any advice, I might consider it - maybe even use it. In fact, if it was really good I might even spring it on wifey if I could catch her in one of her fleeting happy moments. That happy moment will probably occur at the same moment I decide to reattach the piece of deck that jumped off the house and attacked me while I was brush hogging. Whatever.

We are disgusting. We are hogs.

The Organizer

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Tue, 11 Sep 2007 16:34:00 +0000

I've received a few letters in the past few months with people concerned about my whereabouts, and lack of posts. I've been working a lot, but when I'm not working abroad - I'm at home being a family guy, or at least making an attempt at it. Let me briefly outline yesterday for you...

5:00 am - Wake up and get wifey up so she can go get the kids ready for school and herself ready for work.
5:10 am - Make organized list of things for wifey to do, because that's what control freak (extremely organized) husbands do.
5:20 am - Watch wifey burn holes through list, and then feel her eyes burn holes through me - this is when I decide I should go to work.
7:00 am - Arrive at work, make coffee, and wait for tasks to miraculously accomplish by themselves. This takes much time.
8:00 am - Leave for an early lunch because all the waiting has made me ferociously hungry.
3:00 pm - Return from lunch.... tasks still aren't done, but my work day is - leave office.
5:00 pm - Arrive at school to pick up son from Football. He didn't really want to play, but I'm not athletic and he is, so I am living vicariously through him.
5:30 pm - Pick up daughter from where wifey works and take her to cheer leading practice. Answer odd questions about Giraffes, unpleasant boys, and all other issues pertaining to a 7 year old princess.
6:00 pm - Son and I hang out with all the moms of the other cheerleaders, and try to not act concerned that we are the only male people present. Most of the moms are afraid of us - I think wifey had something to do with that.
7:00 pm - Return home to disaster left by kids, dogs and the apparent tordando that tore through kitchen early in the morning.
7:05 pm - Threaten kids with a beating if they don't fix the tornado/breakfast mess, and start making dinner (Jalapeno casserole).
8:00 pm - Eat 3.54 pounds of jalapeno casserole because evidently I'm the only one with a "steel ass". Wifey and kids decide to go vegetarian and have turkey sandwiches.
8:30 pm - Sit down and visit with dog about kids, guns, wives, lack of beer in the house, and all the other unimportant things in life that only a dog would understand.
9:00 pm - Send kids to bed.
9:05 pm - Send kids to bed
9:15 pm - Send kids to bed
9:20 pm - Think to myself that we don't beat the children enough, and send to bed again.
9:30 pm - Have shower and put on summer housecoat/cape and chase wifey until she is too tired to resist me. Depending on the day, this can take a long time....
10:00 pm - She's too tired to run, and I'm too tired from chasing. I convince wifey to come to bed but what she doesn't know is that she will be much easier to catch in a confined space like that. I am so incredibly smart sometimes (wifey wouldn't agree 100% with that)

So that is my life when I'm home, which isn't often anymore. I hope this satisfies the question "What have you been doing to be so busy?" The best thing is - it's not an excuse this time. Just the truth, mostly.

Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 00:54:00 +0000

I could start a whole new blog on hotels - good one's and bad one's. But I won't, because I already have 2 blogs that I can barely keep up with. Whatever.

Tonight is an oddity... I actually get to stay in a hotel room with it's own bathroom and get this - highspeed internet. All this clean living has paid off.

But old habits die hard. I would try to explain the look on the receptionists face as I wheeled the luggage dolly past the front desk with all my luggage and field "Pest Control" kit, but it would be pointless. The kit contains everything from sticky fly tape and whiskey, to bug bombs. I may forget my clothes at home, but I never forget this kit.

Receptionist - "Oh... what's in that box????"

Me - "Mostly a lot of shit to kill bugs, insects, and stray visitors in my room"

Receptionist - "How do you keep from killing yourself?"

I'm sure everyone has asked someone a question before and upon asking the question, the questionee gets a stupid stunned look, and lets his mouth fall open. Ok, that was me tonight.

This event was preceeded by a run in with a small town parade. I'm zipping along a main US route when I came into a very small town. The speed limit decreased from 70, to 55, to 40 mph. This entire process took place in about a 1/4 mile stretch of highway. There is a pickup coming towards me with what appeared to be a luggage rack on the roof. When the luggage rack lit up red and blue, I concluded it was a very strange luggage rack. Whatever, anyways, this pickup just turns sideways on the road and blocks it. At this point I'm assuming that I failed to meet the speed limit requirment in the small amount of space I was given to accomadate it, and I was about to be told so by a law officer. This guy jumps out of a Fish and Wildlife pickup and waves me down to stop - which I do, albeit sort of jerky and screetchy. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I'm thinking he wants to give me a ticket.

Officer - "Where are you going"

Me - I actually couldn't remember the name of the town I was going to because I had spilled Dr. Pepper all over my crotch while stopping - "I'm not sure - the same direction I'm going right now..... um - west"

Officer - "You can't go this way, the highway is closed in town"

Me - "Hmmm - so I can't get there from here?"

Officer - like I'm mentally deficient or something "You need to go A-R-O-U-N-D town"

Me - "I guess going O-V-E-R the town isn't an option since I have yet to sprout wings...."

And with that, he had me pull over and 'wait' patiently for a real law officer. Whatever. What the hell is a fish cop doing guiding traffic? A police officer would have said "You need to turn around and go here, here, and go up here, and magically you will be right back on the same road going the same direction. I have to find stuff for a living.... I have enough GPS and guidance stuff with me to navigate to another planet - or atleast around a small town. Some people just have no ha ha. They can all kiss my ass.

Maybe I should have waited to write this until after I fumigated my room. Whatever. I must go feed myself.

Living the Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Wed, 05 Sep 2007 00:30:00 +0000

Above and beyond everything that has happened this summer, we are also trying to do 'family' things. I guess when the kids stay home, do nothing, but don't tear up too much shit - we reward them. Things have changed slightly since I was a child. Whatever.

The chillens wanted a visit to 6 Flags before school started, so wifey and I agreed that would be cool. Wifey and the kids like fast, ass rattling rides. I like beer gardens. I thought there would be both at 6 flags. I should never assume.

Not wanting to be the wimpy step dad guy, I decided I should ride the first ride everyone wanted to go on. I believe it was called the 'Runaway Mine Train'. They can call it whatever they want.... It was a roller coaster that went out of control in a completely dark building. About the time I felt my teeth nashing at my asshole, I thought that was enough fun for one ride. And then it went on. I could barely walk when I got off.

Luckily it was only 100 degrees outside, or I may have really been sick, but I drug my dizzy ass to the next ride - The Titan. Unshaken, I peered to the top of this thing they were calling a roller coaster, it occured to me that I may not live. I was mostly right. If you have ever seen pictures of people riding these things, they are all screaming, laughing, and waving their hands... That was sort of like me but substitute curling into the fetal position for the laughing part and that would almost be an accurate description. Luckily I didn't barf very much - I was smart enough to have a 'light' breakfast.

I'm in recovery mode right now. Wifey thinks I'm a wimp, and the kids were a little disappointed that Ryan was done by 9 in the morning. I didn't even get a chance to ride the inverted roller coaster, but I puked as I watched my wife and kids do a 360 that would knock even a fighter pilot out.

I'm a lot tougher in other things. At least that's what I've been telling myself for the last few days.....

They're Abusing Me

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Thu, 09 Aug 2007 02:58:00 +0000

I have no lame ass excuses.... I think I already used one of my family members dying - if not, I will shortly.

Life is just crazy sometimes. I knew about 3 months ago that summer was going to be a genuine bitch. I was right.

I haven't forgotten about any of you.... in fact I think about ya'll more often than I probably should. I haven't been around to visit, but I will soon.

I would like to blame my wife for the reason I haven't been around but.... it's my work. I get called away at the strangest times for 'undisclosed' amounts of time. Unfortunately, most of the places my work takes me lacks any type of communication unless smoke signals count. In fact, I'm pretty sure one of the last places I went to didn't even have the stuff to make that form of communication a reality. Sucks to be me.

I still have a good life.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Have faith.

Shaved

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan) — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 22:27:00 +0000

Have you ever been sitting around doing nothing and thought "I should get the clippers and give my dog a haircut"?

This isn't exactly how it boiled down, but the end result was the same.

Kiley, the dog that goes literally everywhere with me, has a heat issue. She just doesn't do heat. When I take her with me, I have to make sure she has ample places to swim and cool down. Part of the problem is her fur. She's a Red Heeler and they have a thick coat of fur to start with. I think something must have mutated in this dog because she has an undercoat that is very similar to wool. When we lived up north it was great. She can do -30 without a problem. She can't do +100 and that's a problem here in TX and many of the places I travel to.

Shortly after returning from getting married, I casually slipped "So I think I'm going to get some clippers and give Kiley a hair cut" into one of our conversations. She had a long response that can be summarized as "NO". Her reasoning (and looking back - it was good reasoning) was that the cost of clippers was as much as taking her to someone with the proper equipment. But beyond that - someone who had a clue as to how to shave a dog should be the one doing the work.

I wasn't insulted, but really - how hard could it be? Get clippers, turn clippers on, and run clippers back and forth across dog until fur is gone.

I was persistent in my quest to clip the dog so a few days ago when wifey and I were in town getting some stuff, I took her over to tractor supply to check out the animal clippers. What ensued was a fight second to none. She ~~wouldn't~~ didn't let me get the clippers I needed because they were too expensive - so I settled. The clippers WE bought didn't work..... and it would be a little tricky to take them back as they had been used so - now we had clippers that were useless unless someone decided to trim my hair with them.

Secretly the next day I stopped by and purchased the proper clippers because I'm sneaky like that. I had butterflies in my stomach on the way home. Kiley, who was sitting in the passenger seat seemed to sense something because she wasn't looking at me.

Upon arriving at home, I ripped the clippers out of the box and plugged them in. Instructions didn't seem necessary because really - how tough can it be? Plug them in and turn them on. Luckily wifey was going to be working late. I wrestled Kiley down, turned the clippers from hell on, and dug in.

They damn sure cut. I did a quick pass straight up her back and peeled off about a gallon of hair. In my excitement I didn't realize they were leaving some pretty horrendous tracks. I clipped, wrestled and shaved for about 30 mins..... I could see some serious problems. The clippers weren't really trimming very smoothly. My dog looked like someone had tried to give her a haircut with a can opener. Panic set in.

I knew wifey would be coming home soon.... I got her "professional" clippers in a last ditch effort to fix the dog. They sort of growled a little, but they worked pretty good - until they quit. I was about half way done when wifey showed up.

wifey - "OH MY $%@#$#@$ GOD - WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO KILEY????"

me - "I gave her a little haircut...... I'm not done yet hon"

wifey - "Oh...... you are done - you are sooooo done - I can't believe you did this to your dog..... those aren't my clippers??????"

me - "I used them to do some light touching up......"

I'm going to leave out her response.... And with that, she gathered my dog and her clippers up and carried them off to 'safety'.

Later I touched her up a little, and she seems to really like her hair cut. We've been working out in West TX for the last while, and she is doing well in the extreme heat. No one has said a word about her haircut. That is partly because no one is out here....

Whatever. It'll grow back.