Before taking off, I promised Jack I'd write a little something. Now. It isn't quite as profound as what the prof has to offer, but read it anyway. Therein, I linked someone I'd been meaning to link, linked someone I haven't linked in a while, and discussed something that I had no intention of discussing with myself. So there you have it, a must read!
Okay, now it is MY turn to skip town. I'll be back on the 9th. I spect you all to be friendly with my blog while I'm gone... I also spect those of you who have keys (or access) to my blog to use them (it) to keep the issues here current over the next nine days!
Until then, I shall miss my peeps.
(Not because I want you to behave; I just don't want to miss anything!)
Show Comments »
Be careful, those sharks love sweet, young pretty meat, like yours, Catposted by catfish on June 30, 2005 10:14 AM
Kind of like when I mistook Dachau for dacha. Man, those manacles hurt. I was expecting a Black Sea resort. Then I was crushing rock.posted by Velociman on June 30, 2005 10:57 PM
If I were a shark, I'D bite you on the ass. Hell, I'm NOT a shark and I'D STILL bite you on the ass.
Have a good time.posted by Acidman on July 2, 2005 12:20 AM
.. hey, Key... my keys didn't work... hope you had a good getaway...posted by Eric on July 5, 2005 08:48 AM
Hey sweetie...I seem to have misplaced my KEY.
Damn!posted by Sam on July 9, 2005 01:05 PM
« Hide Comments
Ah, one of the little things that lent meaning to my childhood.
For the past several years, since Miss Priss has been old enough to appreciate such wonders, I've noticed that there only seemed to be a handful at a time in the yard, whereas my yard was thick with them growing up.
And I thought, of ALL the bugs to die out, we have to lose the ones with glowing booties?
This has been my fear for a few years now. But last night, I was comforted.
I stood on my deck at twilight and stared down into my wooded yard, and it was glistening, twinkling, lit up like a Christmas tree.
It was a beautiful sight, an enchanted forest.
(Of course, I'm sure that I have at least that many mosquitoes as well, but I'll not think of that right now...)
Show Comments »
catch one of those suckers on a really dark night then smear it between your hands.
Your hands will glow in the dark! How fierce is that?
You can trip the kids out by smearing the bugs all over your face...it's a gas!
I'm a good dad...really I am.posted by Muzik on June 29, 2005 08:13 PM
Ok..i'm a bit gentler than Muzik. We caught them in glass jars and then let them go when we were through. I love to look over at the woods and see them sparkle. It brings back so many memories.posted by Moogie on June 29, 2005 09:02 PM
« Hide Comments
I wear too much black. My friends have noticed. My child has noticed.
So today, I am sporting a pair of white capris. Oh yeah, I am living on the wild side.
Standing in line with my daughter at Subway, in the heat of the lunch rush, and just as it was time to place our order, Miss Priss and I had the following conversation:
MP: Mom, I can totally see your underwear through those pants.
Me: Shhh, no you can't. You want the club?
MP: Yes I can!
Me: She'll have the club.
MP: [Poking my rear] And if I can't see through them, how come I can see your smiley faced underwear?
Niiiice. Good thing I love her. Of course I'd STILL like to know "how come" she couldn't see them before we left the house?? Did I mention this particulah Subway is a place we frequent, downstairs from the office, know everyone there by name...?
Ah, it reminds me of the time the child was a vocal (and quite articulate) three year old... [Ladies, continue...]Read More "Another Embarrassing Moment" »
We were in a very public, very crowded restroom, sharing a stall, when she asked in her loudest, most articulate and most adorable voice evah, "Mommy! Why is there a string hanging out of your bottom?!"
Maybe no one heard, you offer....
Laughter resonated. The sweet kind, of course: "Aaw, how old is she...," etc.
(Yes, I know the guys read this, but they were warned.)
« Hide "Another Embarrassing Moment"
Show Comments »
From now on, just don't wear any underwear, Catposted by catfish on June 28, 2005 08:24 PM
Heh...You have to love them, right? Great story. I think us mom's have a few of those.posted by Moogie on June 29, 2005 08:51 AM
Dontcha have a digital camera? Take some pictures of the white pants and have a reader poll to see whether the pants are truly see-through.
All in the interest of the truth. Because really we *can* handle the truth.posted by zonker on June 29, 2005 09:26 AM
Ok, zonker..you're just funny. That was a hilarious story!!! Gotta love 'em, eh?posted by Kelly on June 29, 2005 09:49 AM
That was hilarious! As a mommy of 3 I'm sure I am going to have some days like that too. :) Kids really do say the "darndest" things!posted by Heather on June 29, 2005 11:38 AM
"Smiley Faced underwear??????????" Who'd a thunk it!posted by ED on June 29, 2005 12:51 PM
The warning wasn't strong enough.
I'll be bleaching my eyes if anyone wants me.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little...posted by Muzik on June 29, 2005 08:05 PM
It was that "Ladies, continue" trap what did it. You just knew we couldn't stop reading there. And ain't it just like a woman to give a warning like that. Men need a warning like "WARNING! MEN STOP HERE -- GO NO FURTHER". We'd still go ahead and do it anyway, but at least we'd believe we were warned fair and square.
Those were really good stories :)posted by MerryMadMonk on June 29, 2005 08:12 PM
BTW...I like "Commando Cat's" comment. Very chic.posted by Muzik on June 29, 2005 08:16 PM
uhhmm, you left out why you had a string hanging out of your butt--isn't that the wrong place?posted by Adam on June 30, 2005 08:54 AM
Very funny post! I was linked there by Moogie. White is so good an exposing things, isn't it? Good luck in the future!posted by Lindsay K. on July 2, 2005 11:38 PM
« Hide Comments
I had my first taste of coffee sometime around age 10. My mom almost always had a mug in her hand, and half-empty mugs could usually be found here and there all over the house and vehicles.
I thought my mother was superwoman. I watched her hustle and bustle all over the house, getting things done, making things happen. And, hey, perhaps the caffeine gave her the motivation, but I was convinced then, as I am now, that there is nothing [short of brain surgery] that the woman can not do.
Given that... I always found it humorous when she would stop, look down at her empty hand and lose all train of thought, before asking the four walls and all in it, "Where'd I lay down my coffee?"
She'd putter, retracing her steps, for a moment or two, give up, and then pour up another mug.
I always wondered, amused, how superwoman managed to lose her beverage of choice, particularly since I never seemed to lose track of anything that I actually enjoyed.
And so... I thought of her this morning, not as I chatted away with my aunt on the phone, and drank hazelnut coffee out of my favorite beach mug...
...but when it disappeared.
Now. I thought of giving up, of pouring another mug. But, NO! It was the principle of the matter. I MUST find it. I. MUST. NOT. TURN. INTO. MY. MOTHER. Not because she's not an amazing person, but because... Well, isn't that obvious?
I retraced my steps. Once. Twice. Thrice. No mug. No coffee. No beverages to be found. Unnerving. Now, I had been home alone, meaning no one else ran off with it. Nooo, I did something with it. So I got off the phone, and having only visited three rooms prior to the disappearance, I checked them again, more thoroughly. I even checked dumb places like the pantry and refrigerator.
And then... I gave up. But I'll be damned if I was going to pour another cup! No, not gonna happen. I was finished anyway, I told myself.
Time passed. Three hours to be exact. And then I noticed the microwave was chanting it's fave word: "END! END! END!"
I didn't remember putting anything in there, but I checked. And yeah, there was my beautiful Seaside mug, holding my now cold hazelnut coffee. And yeah, I felt retarded.
But even more unnerving: I still don't remember putting it in there, not even a fuzzy memory. Nothing...
So... I figure that either my aging process is in warp speed, or I had a visitor.
Show Comments »
My mother left burning Chesterfields everywhere. If she couldn't find her cigarette she'd just light another one. My house looked like a 42nd Street bar growing up. I still have end tables, sewing machine cabinets, cedar chests with nice inch long burns on them.posted by Velociman on June 26, 2005 09:09 PM
It's Dr. Pepper cans for me.posted by Kelly on June 27, 2005 07:29 AM
Had to be a "visitor". I have one to.posted by Sam on June 27, 2005 05:45 PM
I used to work for an absent minded professor of an English woman who'd frequently ask me to help her find her eyeglasses... which she had usually pushed back up on top of her head.
I'd say you have a way to go before you can beat that!posted by Omnibus Driver on June 28, 2005 02:30 PM
Kinda like the morning I lost the damn POT...and found it in the fridge.
I still have no idea how it ended up in there. ;-)posted by Tammi on June 28, 2005 09:18 PM
Car keys. If I leave them anywhere but the "usual place," I'm schnitzled.posted by Jim - PRS on June 28, 2005 11:16 PM
I read about your "visitor" before, and it freaked me out. Should have remembered the reaction before, but NO, I had to read it again. Damn.
I'm pretty sure that there's an extra occupant here, but I try not to think about it... until I read stuff like that! :)posted by That 1 Guy on June 29, 2005 12:59 AM
« Hide Comments
And so here I sit, in my tiled and open office, overlooking the small town square, dipping my Cioccolati Biscotti into my cold gas station decaf...
I hate days dedicated to collections. The irony: Banks and lending institutions. I dare you to default on them. Sixty days and they ruin your credit, another sixty and you've lost your home.
So WHO owes us somewhere in the neighborhood of ten grand (collectively)?
Yar! Banks and lending institutions. Big names. Names you well know. I assume that they figure they only have to pay for an appraisal when and if they close the loan.
NOT! We are in the service industry. They are in the risk industry. Our fee is three figs, theirs is four. We get paid regardless, they get paid if they close it.
Well, that's the theory. Makes sense, right? I think so. Somebunny splain it to them.
We do the happy dance if we get paid within 30 days. Typically, it is more in the neighborhood of 60 to 90 days...though in the "delinquent" file which sits before me, accounts are growing mold. (I'm still trying to get 04 closed out with a few lenders.)
Have us by the balls, they do.
Can't drop them. After all, we need the biz. And they do pay us for about two thirds of the work that we do...
Tomorrow I'm transferring to another department.
Show Comments »
Did you forget about me and the email address, I asked you for, Catposted by catfish on June 23, 2005 07:14 PM
I hear ya! I hate collections, too. Damn, that beer is sounding better and better isn't it..LOLposted by Kelly on June 24, 2005 07:38 AM
What exactly do you do for a living?posted by Nancy on June 25, 2005 02:02 PM
We run a two man office. My husband is a real estate appraiser, heading up the production department. I am all of the other departments.
I spend 2 to 3 hours a week on collections - not very productive! You'd think if you gave customers (30) days from invoice date, after I have paid for materials, labor & delivey, they'd be able to pay me! A week or two over - no big deal to them. Big deal to me since I pay my invoices ON TIME!
Thanks for letting me rant!
« Hide Comments
And so I watched, glued to the set, for an hour.
In case you missed it, EATEN ALIVE will air again Saturday. And it will verify the veracity of many of the parasitic legends we have all heard, from the wife's chore of hand over elbow pulling tapeworms out of her husbands ass, to the discovery of tiny little worms surfacing on the eyeball of a man three years after exposure to the infant parasite.
Pictures? Oh, you must have pictures.
Elephantitis is actually caused by a parasite. Usually there is a "beautifully, harmonious relationship between worm and host." [Riiiiiiight.] Howevah... occasionally, there is a blockage of the lymph glands due to the invasion, and gnarly disfigurement occurs:
(I was nice; I picked a mild photo. Can't say as much for the -warning: nasty- site where I uncovered it.)
But the WORST...?! Remember in The Rundown when Mariana tells Beck not to piss in the waters of the Amazon, because the candiru would swim up his weewee? ...and then they'd have to amputate?
I thought it fiction. Comedic relief. It isn't. (Although, I am comforted by the fact that amputation is typically not necessary.)
Anyway, here's the little bitch (They are usually one to six inches in length; pic lifted from this site.):
What does it want you ask?! This, the world's smallest catfish and only vertebrate parasite, wants to swim up your peepee and anchor itself - with these little spikes it throws out - into your now bloodied tissues. It will then FEED on that blood and tissue. (Fortunately, it does prefer hosts with gills.)
I'll be traveling within the U.S. for a while me thinks. ...until these memories fade a bit.
(For the truly sick, I have provided grotesque surgical removal pics in the extended entry...)
Show Comments »
OMG!! I watched that too and have been paranoid and sick ever since!posted by Sam on June 22, 2005 10:23 PM
oh that's just sick!posted by livey on June 22, 2005 10:31 PM
Oh, HELL no, I won't open that link. The idea of the thing with the swimming up the wee-wee is going to give me nightmares - and I don't even have that brand of wee-wee. Uh-uh. NO!
Will not click. Will not click...posted by Kelley on June 23, 2005 12:03 AM
Remind me NEVER to read your blog while eating. Oh Gawd.posted by moogie on June 23, 2005 08:04 AM
Amen. I don't even swim in anything that's not chlorinated just because I've HEARD of stuff like that. Ick, ick, ick...ewwww...shudderposted by Kelly on June 23, 2005 08:47 AM
.. I watched it too.. I liked the guy who named his "belly grub" George... that guy is hardcore..posted by Eric on June 23, 2005 04:56 PM
Damn, my dick just crawled up inside of me and won't come back out.posted by Richard on June 23, 2005 07:04 PM
I'm not sure how I was fortunate enough to miss that show. Since the kids are on vacation, Animal Planet is on all the damn time.
Oh god, my skin is crawling. There's something ON ME, isn't there?!?posted by Chablis on June 24, 2005 04:55 PM
What the hell possessed you to go looking at this shit?
I work at the National Library of Medicine. I have more resources like this than you can shake a stick at. I avoid it.
You want sick? Try looking at the US Army's Medical Corps in World War I collection. Unbelievable the wounds people can survive. The question is why would they want to.posted by Jesse on June 25, 2005 06:46 AM
Holy CRAP *shiver*. Excuse me while I go barf. *yack*posted by PattiG on June 25, 2005 12:52 PM
I'm now sitting here with my legs crossed so hard that it's cutting off the circulation.posted by physics geek on June 28, 2005 09:19 AM
Note to self: "Buy extra condoms and butt plugs for snorkling in the Amazon next week."posted by marcus on July 3, 2005 06:59 PM
« Hide Comments
Am I the only one who dreams of taking Chef Ramsey out to a back-woods, "mom and pop" eyesore for a greasy meat and three?
[Disclaimer re my having watched it: The Priss made me do it! She's addicted to reality TV...]
Show Comments »
I must have grown up poor. We only had meat and two. Unless you're counting the bread. Which would be cheating. That's just for sopping.posted by Velociman on June 21, 2005 08:22 PM
Hells Kitchen is in New York, bad ass place, been there twice and I will never go back. We had three with meat and someting sweet after the meals, we were in high cotton, Catposted by catfish on June 21, 2005 09:58 PM
« Hide Comments
So I decided to lose the last ten pounds that love me so and hate to go...those last ten that stand between me and that killer pair of jeans, which sit gathering dust atop my closet.
Upon making this decision, I immediately switched cereals. No more Special K with sliced bananas. Or yogurt. NO, I MUST have peanut butter Captain Crunch.
And no more of this fruit smoothie bullshit for a snack. Nooooo, I must have rewards now for my good behavior. Ergo, I have made, in the past month or so, some seriously divine desserts:
Pecan toffee trimmed with dark chocolate,
Homemade apple pie with Dutch topping,
Lemon cake with drizzled butter glaze,
Cookies with chocolate and toffee chunks,
But that is not all...Oh no, that is not all:
I went to the grocery store and bought OREOS! 2 Bags. Buy one/get one. Then I moseyed on over to the dairy case, where me and my lactose intolerant ass bought TWO gallons of Breyer's ice cream. (Also buy one/get one.)
And then I went home, and like a maddened scientist, frantically filled my (former smoothie) blender to the rim with a combination of the two delicacies, watching intently as they became one. And the Priss and I dined on Oreo-blackened shakes with a Lactaid chaser.
Conclusion: I MUST go off of this diet - IMMEDIATELY - before I gain 30 pounds.
I hate that I am so cleanly filed away as an example of such a simple psychological axiom, but uh...I'm afraid that would be the case.
Deprived! Prob: I am starving, bless my soul, I will never taste sweets again, so famished I have become... Solution: Therefore I must indulge one last time. And then, one more last time...
I am officially off of my diet. I will now go back to fruit, yogurt and grilled chicken.
Soooo... Anyone else struggle with this particular affliction, "irony of the appetite" so to speak, or am I a freak?
I must admit that I was feeling a little guilt over my apparent lack of discipline until mid-morning today.
It was then that I found myself watching Fox news, as usual, and LO! A commercial for Relacore. And what a
patronizing bitch sweet lady that was describing the miracle capsule, all 110 pounds of her.
Anyway, bless her soul, she told me that IT'S NOT MY FAULT! (Which - how did she know? - was EXACTLY what I wanted to hear!) Nooo, the fault is that of an evil hormone called cortisol! And it can be killed, if I'm willing to pay the assassins $153 per month!
Heh. I knew it wasn't my fault. If that damn Cortisol comes home with Oreos again, I might just hire the mercenaries to hunt it down like the dirty dog that it is.
Now I know. Those dirty bastards in molecular clothing. I will have their asses.
Show Comments »
Shit fire girl, you would look great even if you gained 100 pounds.posted by catfish on June 17, 2005 06:27 PM
Aaw, thanks Sweetie.
(But I have big ol pregnant pictures that don't lie. And yes, I do lack the courage to post them!)posted by Key on June 17, 2005 06:55 PM
I have lived on my Beer and Ice Cream diet for years. In 1955 I weighed in at 152 lbs and to day I am at 163, reason is that flab has a heavier specific gravity that muscle. so I look at my weight gain a just an aging thing.
http://blog.skpnet.org/archives/2004/07/12/beer-and-ice-cream-diet/posted by jerry on June 17, 2005 08:34 PM
I've lost 35 pounds since I met all you bloggers in Helen. I like to think it is because ya'll killed my appetite. Every time I try to keep something down, I go read a Jawja blogger.
Why that is, I wonder?posted by Velociman on June 17, 2005 09:06 PM
God makes OREOS, so they must be Ok. Eat as many as you need.posted by Sam on June 17, 2005 10:12 PM
Cortisol, huh? I did a nickel in Reedsville with that bastard. All talking shit about thin and fat, besides that which we chewed or that existed within his head. I know for a fact, though, that Cell Block 6 wishes he was back. They love bullshit in Prison.
Here's what you do. Corty baby has a trick jaw. The right isn't your typical Christmas ball fragile, but the left, when enough force is thoroughly applied with the blunt façade of one’s fist, usually pops half his mandible straight off. Knuckles figured this shit out when Cortisol ended up with AKA of "Cortney." Knuckles still wonders where his princess went.
I do the same thing. I've been trying to lose 15 lbs since November - I've gained 10.
The same thought process...hell, I can even rationalize ice cream for breakfast.
I'm with you - I do much better when I'm not on a diet!posted by Tammi on June 18, 2005 10:34 AM
Ok, I eat whatever I want whenever I want. I just don't eat a LOT of it. Spend a little extra money and cook with peanut oil and olive oil instead of vegetable oil...and go for walks a lot. Take some time to like enjoy the scenery, then it isn't so much like exercising. If you've got a sig. other or husband, kick it up a notch in the bedroom..sex burns lots of calories. Oh, and watch your dairy intake...whole milk and cheese are just as bad as ice cream.posted by Kelly Drennan on June 18, 2005 01:59 PM
SEX, did anyone say SEX? I'm in for some SEX, I better add just women and very young ladies for you assholes out there, Catposted by catfish on June 19, 2005 02:29 PM
Eat whatever you want, once a day, and don't eat after 3 pm. Drink whatever you want after 3 pm.
It only hurts for a week or so, until your stomach shrinks. I lost 50 lbs doing this, and I feel great.posted by Bane on June 19, 2005 02:47 PM
Eat what you want and die like a man!posted by Acidman on June 20, 2005 11:16 AM
I eat lots watermelon lately with dark chocolate. Then a glass of red wine, Cabernet mostly, sometimes Shiraz or Merlo. I feel great and lost about 7 pounds.posted by bad credit repair on June 20, 2005 12:33 PM
Catfish started it he said sex!posted by livey on June 21, 2005 05:06 PM
What 10 pounds? You look great just the way you are! See ya in Nawlins!posted by Denny on June 25, 2005 10:37 PM
« Hide Comments
Netscape takes forever to load on my crappy dial-up, BUT...
Interesting link today:
Is THIS why it's so hard to trust people whom we lust?
...Or to lust people whom we trust??
(Wonder if the study applies to Alabama.)
Show Comments »
Well, they named the reason in the article, which is what I was thinking, and it makes sense to me. Mixing up those genes is a good idea.posted by Rachel Ann on June 16, 2005 04:36 AM
Nobody trust anyone in Alabama, but fucking them is another story all together. Even the sheep are scared in Bama.posted by A Clockwork Orange Happier on June 17, 2005 11:21 PM
dog horse sexposted by dog horse sex on June 20, 2005 11:56 AM
« Hide Comments
Jackson is a selfish, narcissistic megalomaniac who believes that he sets the standard for what is right and wrong in his own life. His love life is private, and it is none of anyone's business if he finds love with a ten year old.
This is what he believes.
He is a sick fuck. His mental substantiations for the selfish manifestations of his perverse mind are not, however, unique. There are two types of pedophiles:
1. The pillars of the fucking community
2. Sorry, toothless, jobless, drugged-up pieces of tax payer dependent trash
The number ones do not go to jail. They don't. That is the rule. There may be exceptions to the rule every now and then, but if so, they fucked up. They lost control of the game, they got sloppy, the manipulation failed, or their funds dried up. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it makes the news.
The number twos are trash. They are uneducated, and they usually have a record. They are not articulate, nor do they cover their tracks well. The jury cannot wait to do them in. They are obviously liars.
And that's what it's all about, right?...credibility. Sure, the children are believable over the TRASH! That's obvious. But not over the scout leaders, the deacons, the celebrities, or the attractive men who wear suits to work! The voice of a child is whiny and petty next to such a prominent figure. LOCK UP a productive member of society because of something a ten year old said? That's just too risky. It can't happen.
Check out the trash. This is what gets convicted. This is what serves time. This is like ONLY squashing the roaches that are stupid enough to run across the floor in broad daylight...and then thinking you've accomplished something.
There's no way to prove it, but I'd lay every dime I own on the fact that there are at least as many "number ones" walking around free, if not ten times that number. You will find them equipped with a sizable bank account, a smarmy disposition, and a network of white collar individuals willing to provide glowing character references. Shit, they'd call their own minister to their defense without batting an eye.
After all, they are pillars of the fucking community.
Show Comments »
Damned waste of time. I came here to see what you REALLY think.posted by Velociman on June 14, 2005 10:55 PM
I agree with you 100%.posted by Dana on June 14, 2005 11:00 PM
Or Catholic priests.posted by Acidman on June 15, 2005 01:21 AM
I clicked on the link above and randomly clicked on names. I looked at six faces before I saw a white man. This says something. I'm not sure what. Thoughts anyone?
Ed, I know. And it's NOT because there are more black than white pedophiles.
(But as a disclaimer, I chose Athens/Clarke for that search. Had I chosen my own county, those ratios would have been reverse. But take the "black" or the "white" list, you will find few to no former "pillars" on either. Those particular pedophiles are typically free men.)posted by Key on June 15, 2005 03:24 PM
I couldn't agree more!posted by Sissy on June 15, 2005 05:43 PM
I was fairly unsurprised by the verdict and wasn't at all surprised to hear comments from the jury about there just not being enough evidence to convict him. Okay, fine. I can accept that the jurors did the best they could with what they were given.
What REALLY got my blood boiling this afternoon was a CNN interview with Thomas Mesereau about how Michael is still going to allow children into his bedroom, but will be much more selective about the ADULTS that he allows into his home and life. I sat there with my chin in my lap...I couldn't believe what I was hearing.posted by Chablis on June 15, 2005 05:49 PM
I gots 9 sex offenders in my ZIP Code, by FDLE reckoning. They are all white, and will all be dead as shit if I ever catch them on my cul-de-sac.posted by Velociman on June 15, 2005 06:49 PM
Bingo! Scored again...posted by John on June 15, 2005 07:51 PM
I couldn't have said it better myself!posted by ali on June 16, 2005 11:41 AM
Ah, yes, thy dark scornful mistress reveals herself. I wouldn’t have it anyway. They can escape the court system, that’s right. But I better never meet a single one of these assholes. A tire iron-induced comma will be lucky by my reasoning.
ED, we are talking about the GBI here. While they are more efficient than our slack-jawed yokels that flesh out the ranks of our local Georgia Police, this is still the south . . .posted by A Clockwork Orange Happier on June 17, 2005 08:01 AM
Any other way, I mean.posted by A Clockwork Orange Happier on June 17, 2005 08:02 AM
My darling cuz, I love you! You are so right and expressed it so well. A++ Excellent!!posted by Ophelia on June 17, 2005 01:13 PM
I just have one observation and question.
Granted these people are scum. But so are serial killers and murderers of other stripes as well as bank robbers, etc.
Why aren't their pictures posted on the web and made to register as "life offenders" i.e. Murderers after serving their sentences? After all isn't recidivism rampant in all categories?
I mean is statutory rape more heinous then say shooting someone 4 or 5 times and turning them into quadraplegics?
Why are sex crimes especially heinous vs murder or severe physical assault? I'm serious.
I know it must be some puritanical zeitgeist at work that holds that raping a child is more heinous than killing him or her, I just don't understand it.posted by Jesse on June 17, 2005 01:21 PM
Well Jesse, I always assumed that it was because murderers tend to stay in jail a while, where as sex offenders get a couple of years and maybe some community service... and then are living amongst us.
I'm all for treating them equally. Give the bastards life as though they've killed someone. They have, after all, killed the spirit of a child.
(As for statutory rape, I'll agree that is less offensive, as long as it is consensual, and she's over 16. He is still, however, barring rare exception, scum.)posted by Key on June 17, 2005 02:36 PM
« Hide Comments
I'm still around actually... just puny.
You know how ya know kids are really sick when they make a face and shake their heads no when offered ice cream?
Likewise, you know that Key Monroe is really sick when she doesn't go online for several days in a row! Rather, I lay in bed all weekend cursing the name of the new doc I'd seen Thursday, who sent me home with an antibiotic I'd never tried before.
You know me - Pharmie! New drugs! Yeah, well, just so you know, Omnicef sucks. It befriended the bacteria growing on my tonsils, and enabled it to grow friends.
Soooo, yesterday when I revisited the clinic, and fortunately was assigned my tried and true doc, I had flaming red tonsils with a dozen pus pockets on each... An intriguing sight to behold, but for some reason, I couldn't psyche Shrek up for the viewing.
Anyway, doc sent me home with a ten day course of Biaxin, which we all know will get the job done, even if it does leave a coppery, crushed aspirin taste in one's mouth for the duration of treatment. I'm sick enough not to care.
I have been remiss as I lay wallowing. But I am pleased to see that my tagged newbies have participated in the reindeer games! Thank you to the lovely, overeducated cuz and to the unstable, orange lunatic for obliging.
I shall promptly return to my writing, just as soon as I can justify the further neglect of my biz-related responsibilities.
For your viewing pleasure, I have included a sick pic in the extended entry. Warning: Although this was taken 5 minutes ago, and is not nearly as nasty as it was yesterday (before I had started the Biaxin), it is still not for the faint of heart.
Hey, I warned you...
1. Yes Zonk, I am sick again.
2. Thanks to John, for teaching me something that all should know...how to spell "pus."
3. Thanks to my wonder-tonsil sister, for giving me the mahvelous idea to capture the freakish growths in pixilated format.
4. Thanks to Shrek for getting over himself enough to snap the shot.
« Hide "I've Been Here in Spirit"
Show Comments »
Hey - those look familiar...
Hope you are feeling better, dear. Take those meds!posted by Kelley on June 14, 2005 04:15 PM
Echos Kelley in wishing you a quick recovery...(my folks had mine ripped out before reached 7) After looking at the picture...are you sure that isn't just a bunch of sesame seeds??
Hope you get to feeling better soon!posted by Guy S on June 14, 2005 05:19 PM
Damn that's nasty.posted by Anton on June 14, 2005 05:28 PM
Good lord. That looks like something from a Swedish sex manual film. Never knew what they were, not speaking Swedish, but they pulsed in the film. If you ever get those gnarly things cut out I would keep them in a jar of alcohol. For Halloween.posted by Velociman on June 14, 2005 07:07 PM
Gawd, woman, them thangs look horrible! Hope you get to feeling better soon!posted by Michele on June 14, 2005 07:14 PM
Good gawd! Maybe you and Kelley can get a group rate on tonsillectomies.posted by Pammy on June 14, 2005 08:10 PM
Ah, there you are, Sis - yikes, but those don't look too hot.
Glad to see you back online, I was wondering what was going on over there.
Your fellow pharmie bro,
- Joeposted by Average Tobacco Chewing Joe on June 14, 2005 10:05 PM
OUCH!! Feel better!!posted by Dana on June 14, 2005 10:59 PM
Gee...I haven't used this particular comment here in about a week...
"Hope you feel better soon!"
Now, enough already, Key. I think we, your readers, ought to just start sending you drugs until you feel better. I mean *prescription* drugs, of course. Whaddya think I meant?! ;-)
Those are the devil's tonsils. Good god, get those babies ripped out LOL.posted by Chablis on June 15, 2005 05:58 PM
Tonsillectomies, anyone? Just let me brandish my clawed hammer here . . . Sterilize it with a homecooked blow torch made from a hair can, zippo, and some good ol' American Duct Tape. Now, The plan is to hook the sacks with the claw and simply rip them from the back of the throat. The rest that stays attached, we can scrape off with the blunt end and a chisell. Feel beter yet?posted by A Clockwork Orange Happier on June 17, 2005 11:17 PM
« Hide Comments
A few years ago, my mom owned her own restaurant in her own town. (This little crossroads is much smaller even than my own little town, which I've pet-named Mayberry.)
The good country folk gathered from miles around to enjoy a genuine southern cooked meat and three by day, juicy burgers, fried catfish, or home smoked BBQ by night.
Children gathered on bar stools for hand-dipped ice cream or malts, and I myself, being between jobs at the time, was a Wednesday regular, as that was chicken 'n dumplin day.
These were good times.
Wednesdays became a family reunion of sorts, as I managed to actually pull my social butterfly of a mother away from her loving customers long enough to sit for a meal. We were often joined by my step-father, and perhaps my aunt would stop by, and my step-sister had a tendency to wander in...and my brother was night manager, but occasionally communed with us by day.
And thus... We would gossip and laugh and bitch and moan, like a bunch of country people who had nothing better to do in the middle of the work day.
The town mayor visited almost daily, and he often stopped by to speak to us about the local goings on. On this particular occasion, the event was the town Sunflower festival, which would be happening the very next Saturday, in the lot between the restaurant and the tracks. (In other words...directly in front of the restaurant.)
So mom buckled down for a crowd, and I psyched Miss Priss for the festival...cotton candy! old-timey cars! pony rides! caramel apples!
But of course, I don't do anything early on a Saturday morning unless I have to, so we pulled in to the party around 11 am.
The first imperative stop was to check in, and let the family know we were there. Soooo...I took the back door to the restaurant, where the Priss hooked up with her cousin, and together they chased down Papa for ice cream.
I continued into the kitchen, greeted my mother, and wasn't surprised to see her in panic mode, given the crowd outside. What did surprise me, was that she wasn't telling me to get the hell out of her kitchen, didn't I see that crowd out there?! No, she was HAPPY to see me, so much and so eerily so that I started backing toward the door, even as she screamed, "Thank GAWD you're here!"
Too late. She was throwing an apron over my head, spinning me around, and tying it in the back. "I've had one quit this morning, and one just NOT show. I neeeed you!"
And with that, and even as I sputtered something about having zero experience, I was given a healthy shove into the direction of the dining area. Having not come in that way, I was seeing and hearing the overflowing dining room, people waiting for tables, one flustered waitress, a frantic cashier, and a take out line to the door, for the first time.
Now, I had worked since age 17, but always at a desk. I had NO waitressing experience before this day. None.
Of course, I'd seen it done, so I understood the concept, but this was a helluva way to train. I filled my apron with pencils, order pad, and straws, and quickly learned the count for the tables...and then I dove in.
My gawd, they must have seen me coming. I was chewed out, chewed up, spat out and stepped on. "Where's my this? I didn't order that! No one has taken our order! It's hot in here! Is somebody going to bus this table?"
And that was all on my first pass through, within moments of accepting the apron.
I spent the next hour working frantically trying to restore order and placate the crowd, and then the next two trying to maintain it. After three hours of mad, stress-filled panic, the crowd slowed to manageable capacity, and I took a turn on the cash register, ringing folks out, and dipping ice cream for the little people, the happy people.
During the course of the day, there had been only a few assholes that were so irate that there was no hope for them, and to those few, I explained that I was donating my time, and making no more than they chose to leave me. This seemed to humble them, but only slightly.
And I had already figured out why my mother paid her servers minimum wage plus tips, rather than the standard $3 or so and tips....these bumkins tipped for shit!
I think I made less than ten dollars the entire day.
Nonetheless, I continued to volunteer my time for the following weeks, as long as mom needed me, and until Shrek fired the insubordinate ruffian who had been assisting him at the office while I worked elsewhere.
All this to say: Hell yes, I have a HEALTHY respect for anyone who does this for a living, and who does it well...and particularly if they do so with a smile.
Show Comments »
Nothing like trial by fire.
It would appear you are made of steel.
; )posted by Chrissy on June 10, 2005 03:53 PM
Thrown to the wolves, and lived to tell the tale! I've never worked in a table service type place, only in fast-food (in college) - way different.
I am with you, Key -- I tip well for good service, and add on for great service with a pleasant attitude. The really special wait people are the ones who don't intrude, but are cheery and responsive when you talk / joke with them. They are gems, and I reward them well!
You know you've tipped right when their brow furrows and they try to give some back, thinking you made a mistake.
I had a girlfriend once who managed a country club. Her cook up and quit on her one day and she drafted me, in a panic. I had never done anything but my own cooking before, but she said she'd coach me, so I agreed.
I ended up with rich old men coming back into the kitchen, looking for the cook, and stuffing $20's into my apron pocket, telling me it was the best they ever had and I made them look good in front of their family/friends.
I had a blast, she kept me drunk, and business picked up like never before. Then I broke up with her and quit, but it was all fun while it lasted.posted by Bane on June 11, 2005 01:04 PM
Everyone should be forced to wait tables for AT LEAST one day, if not a week. I have been in the short-order business for 18 years, and most of the folks that work for me bust their asses for a pittance.posted by Richard on June 11, 2005 09:54 PM
I feel unworthy - your page looks and feels amazing, your prose is simply beautiful, and your attitude (even during a shit storm) is admirable. I love you more and more everyday.
Now update!posted by Ophelia on June 13, 2005 02:11 PM
Similar experience here. I was in USAF, but was a part time pizza delivery guy to pick up a little extra money, stationed in Denver in the late 60s. It was a slow delivery night, but the waitress had called in sick and there was a mob of dine-in customers for some reason. I was asked to help wait tables, first time ever I'd done that. Wow! I had new respect for waiters and waitresses after that experience.
I never "stiffed" a waitress again, after that. In fact, I probably tip a little too much.posted by GunTrash on June 13, 2005 09:48 PM
I hardly tip, unless my wife hits me or some shit. What I mean to say is . . . Mr. Pink: "I don't tip cause society says so . . . I tip if someone does a great job" or are forced to work for less than minium wage."I worked for minium wage," however,"And when I did, I wasn't lucky enough to have a job that society deemed worthy enough to be 'tipped.'" I stand by that completely. I worked as a Assistant Manager once in a business that isn't allowed tips by law and was making 5.15 an hour with all the responsibilies of a manager.
. . . Then again, I'm an asshole.
« Hide Comments
But I do have quite the drug fetish. It's about fixing problems really.
Infected? Cillin it!
In Pain? Opiate it!
Inflamed? Cut it!
I wish I could say more for THE SEARCHERS out there, but that's all I know.
I too am plagued with the 24/7 nasty ass tonsils, every six months or so flaring from a meek and pitted status to a throbbing and painful house of puss, similar to those seen HERE!
The answer? Well, let's see, even when the ugly masses of lymphoid tissue are NOT providing a bacterial haven, they are regurgitating nasty chunks of pit deposit, which are gagworthy at best. Given that, I'm with Kel, let's yank 'em!
Want. Them. Out.
Given the six month cycle of tonsil hatred, I'm forecasting pure exasperation by December. How does a January surgery sound? Let us all yank them in unison! We shall then torch the formaldehyde soaked pitted masses in effigy! AHAHAHAA!!!
(Yes, I do have a fever, and yes I would rather burn my bras, but I seem to have missed that boat.)
Show Comments »
Your descriptions were absolutly GROSS. ...But way cool!(Check it out kinda cool.) I hope you feel better soon.posted by Amanda on June 8, 2005 07:13 PM
I had mine yanked when I was 30. I can honestly say I haven't had a sore throat since. Get it done, you won't regret it.posted by Becky on June 8, 2005 08:17 PM
Thank you Becky! I was hoping for a personal testimony.posted by Key on June 8, 2005 08:31 PM
I was lucky & had mine out when I was 3, which was the beginning of my hatred aka fear of hospitals, doctors, nurses, etc...posted by Tina on June 8, 2005 10:01 PM
Your welcome! Have your adenoids out while your at it.You can breathe better with out them. It took me a good 2 weeks to get over the throat burning and being sore. But it was all worth it in the end.posted by Becky on June 8, 2005 10:03 PM
Gramps burned his out, gargling with food grade Hydrogen peroxide.posted by og on June 8, 2005 11:32 PM
The 'rents, tiring of the Annual Pneumonia, had mine ripped out when I was five.
Now I only get infected lungs. I blame their smoking.
Oh, and since I'm getting snarked on spelling and usage over at the Castle... puss is... pus. Puss is a kitty cat... or something else. Heh.posted by John of Argghhh! on June 9, 2005 01:13 AM
I have had mine removed three times, the damn things grow back, maybe I am some sort of human experiment gone wrong. I use straight Aspiren and it keeps mine under control.posted by James Old Guy on June 9, 2005 10:39 AM
I still have mine. When I was little, they would get very bad at times, mama took me to a doctor and he gave me some white nasty nose drps, they would make you sick as a dog and you would throw up all kinds of nasty shit, and then the next day, they were gone. I wish I knew what that white shit was, take care and hope you feel better, Catposted by catfish on June 9, 2005 11:20 AM
Medical technology has improved over the years.
Do 'em, and then call Catfish. On second thought, you'd better call him first.posted by Sam on June 9, 2005 12:33 PM
I had my tonsils and adenoids out (I find it amusing now that they call that "T&A") when I was 12 years old. I'm in my fifties now and I still have post nasal drip. When I had a job working with rats, my allergies were bad and I had constant gunk that I could cough up. Now that I work in an office, there's not as much drippage or coughable junk.
Good luck with the surgery. They say you can eat a lot of ice cream afterwards. What they don't tell you is that you won't feel like eating much of anything for a couple of days.posted by MB on June 9, 2005 03:03 PM
You can have my tonsils when you pry them from my cold, dead throat. Of course, my work fine, so there's that.posted by Velociman on June 9, 2005 08:43 PM
Sore throat? Just mix 1/4 cup of vinegar with 1/4 cup of honey and take 1 tablespoon six times a day. The vinegar kills the bacteria.
What do you have to lose?posted by Dana on June 10, 2005 10:59 AM
mnletomol.com Consult with your doctor
http://ashton-taylor.letomol.com/ashton-taylor.html ashton taylor if you think you are pregnant
http://erica-campbell.letomol.com/erica-campbell.html erica campbell or before breast-feeding.
http://andrea-mountjoy.letomol.com/andrea-mountjoy.html andrea mountjoy Alcohol can increase unwanted
http://angie.letomol.com/angie.html angie side effects of dizziness.
http://analise-hayes.letomol.com/analise-hayes.html analise hayes video Consult your doctor or pharmacist
http://aria-giovanni.letomol.com/aria-giovanni.html aria giovanni pic for further information soma.
http://avy-scott.letomol.com/avy-scott.html avy scott If you miss a dose, do not
http://luci.letomol.com/luci.html luci double the next dose. Instead,
http://brenda.letomol.com/brenda.html brenda skip the missed dose and
http://anita-blond.letomol.com/anita-blond.html anita blond pic letomol.comnm
« Hide Comments
"You call THAT a pity party? Now THIS is a pity party!"
Okay...well he said it in so many words. From now on, he shall be filed in my rolodex under "Master Party Coordinator," as he mixes a mean rita and draws a fine crowd.
Thanks to all who came, partied and signed the guest registry! You guys are effective spirit lifters. [pun intended.]
Show Comments »
First! And meeting the requirement that started your party in the first place!posted by John of Argghhh! on June 8, 2005 05:22 PM
First, possibly only. Where are those damn worms? ;)posted by Key on June 8, 2005 08:32 PM
I brought you a 'gift' for the 'party' ...
Tag : http://barbette.blogspot.com/2005/06/5-things-i-miss-from-my-childhood.html
Hmmm - let me try that with the right stuff around it ... Tagposted by Barb on June 9, 2005 12:35 AM
*peering around* Still think it needs some decent wallpaper, but I ain't gonna quibble with a Lady who admits to mooning her boss...
*gives 'ritamatic a shove in the direction of the hole in the blogwall and follows it through*posted by cw4billt on June 9, 2005 02:20 AM
« Hide Comments
So I promised Miss Priss a movie Friday night, and I - having been culturally deprived growing up - usually attempt to infuse a little culture into the child when the opportunity arises.
Meaning...it was time. She should be introduced to STAR WARS! Besides, I wanted to see it.
Prob? PG 13. Wtf? Normally, I wouldn't give the rating a second thought, but this time my baby was coming with. (Yes, I know she is nine. But recall the litany, "she will always be my baby.")
I was thinking spilt blood (since I knew Vader was to be mutilated), a copulation scene (since I knew twins were to be gestated), the worst...
Soooo, on the way into town, I fired off a text to a handful of
geeks cultural elitists (with children) whose numbers I have stored in my phone. Well, either I misjudged them, or texting isn't "geek cool," because only ONE actually replied to the text prior to movie start time, and that was to say, "What do I look like, a geek? Haven't seen it yet."
Fine. Over myself I got, made my own call I did. Then I bought the child a ticket.
And so. This is my public service announcement to anyone else who wonders about the rating...
No worries, tis fine. There is a birth scene, but no copulating. Lots of people die, but no blood and guts (although Vader did get really yucked up, as expected).
I'm giving the okay for kiddies eight and up. (Of course, if you have a five year old boy who likes to set frogs on fire, I'm betting he can get through it without any major nightmares.)
Oh...enjoyment factor? We've been through the trilogy TWICE in as many days. I'd say she's
geekified culturally edified!
Show Comments »
Calling bullshit here. I did say I hadn't seen it yet (I like Star Wars, ain't gonna dress up like fucking Boba Fett and camp out for tickets, though), I also said at PG-13 your child would be fine, enjoy. Ipso facto, I am right, throw some credit around.posted by Velociman on June 6, 2005 07:17 PM
Alrighty then! Credit: Your guesswork panned out.
But I was LOOKING for personal testimony!! This I did not get, so now that I own one myself, I have shared... for the good of the community, and future Boba Fett fans everywhere...posted by Key on June 6, 2005 10:55 PM
I think it depends on the criteria. Why is sex so bad for a child to see but seeing a man lose three limbs and then catch on fire OK?
Personally, I'd rather have any children of mine see two people being affectionate, loving, and yes, having sex than people hurting, maiming, and killing each other.
What lessons do you think seeing each situation teaches?
But that's me...posted by Jack on June 7, 2005 02:28 AM
A good Yoda you do.
"Do or do not do, there is no try."
posted by werbinox on June 7, 2005 06:41 AM
Last week, I took my two girls. Jillian (10) and Jenna (4 1/2), to see III. Jilly loved it, but was a little squemish during the Anakin lava rock scene. Jenna, who I think is a GIRL who will someday set frogs on fire or blow their heads off with firecrackers, thought it was only a "little scary." No nightmares ... yet. She loves Yoda and likes how Obi Wan Kenobi rolls off her tongue. No Yoda-speak (Yodese?) from either child thus far.posted by John on June 7, 2005 11:29 AM
Why is it not bad, John? Check out the orignal fairy tails we all grew up on. Evil is punished, and there's no fucking. Thats how it works. It has to follow the below formula
Evil Punished+No Fucking=Okay for Kids!
> ...having sex than people hurting, maiming, and killing each other....
Hmmm, let's see. When I was a child we were taken to action/thriller movies where a lot of violence was portrayed. But no sex movies. I grew up despising un-necessary violence and abuse of other people or animals. I also didn't contract HIV or any other STDs and didn't get another teenager knocked up while in school. Yup, I guess I'm pretty screwed up because I saw some violent movies instead of ones depictiing sex just for the sake of sex. Get a clue, every civilization that became obsessed with sex fell into decay and stagnation. The Dark Ages are an example of the other extreme. Same destination, different route.posted by Palomar Jack on July 23, 2005 12:07 AM
« Hide Comments
I'm a 20% tipper. Period. Very little fluctuation. Well some... If they suck, but with a great attitude, they get 15%. And if they are hateful while sucking, rock bottom is 10%.
While this is my anal little rule, I broke it Friday night for someone worthy of mention.
I bumped it to 40%, and had I had a crisp Ben on me, I would have been sorely tempted to leave it....yes, even though I am in debt up to my eyeballs.
She smiled. She asked how we were doing. She was bright-eyed and chipper. She got everything right. She was only eighteen.
That was impressive enough, but I held her at the table long enough to find out a little more:
She has been waitressing full-time since age 16. She has not only stayed in high school while working full-time, she has held a seat in the student council, participated in the marching band, and been a member of the Beta club.
And she will continue to work full time while putting herself through college.
WOW! That's what I'm talking 'bout.
I know it's not ideal. I hate that she is having to work so hard, but I can for damn sure appreciate it, and raise my glass to her.
(Did I mention that she was always smiling?)
Show Comments »
i find that good service is rare. congrats to you on getting it!posted by jessica on June 5, 2005 08:54 PM
Good for you. I am a huge tipper when I get service worthy of the name - I waited tables for a lot of years, before college and after it - so I know how hard those folks work. When I get shitty service, I tip accordingly.posted by Kelley on June 5, 2005 10:40 PM
It's awesome when you get a waitress like that and EVEN more awesome when someone tips accordingly.
My daughter just graduated from High school last week.
The very day she turned 16 she went out and got a job at a restaurant. She could only be a hostess because in FL. you have to be 18 to waitress if they serve alcohol. She was a hostess there until she turned 18 and then moved on to waitress where she made alomst $300 a night in tips alone (very high scale restaurant)
During all this time she was a Varsity cheerleader. Editor of the yearbook (4 years) in First priority (a christian based group at her school) Anchor club (did community service...i.e: mowed lawns for elderly, planted flowers at elementary schools ,cooked meals for the homeless) and people wondered why I spoiled her silly (to the best of my ability)
You don't find many tenagers who are willing to put in that much effort anymore.
I don't take any credit for what she has accomplished at her young age. I just pointed her in the right direction and she took off.........
Tips my glass to you....posted by dawn on June 5, 2005 10:50 PM
I'm downtown with you...posted by Sam on June 5, 2005 11:33 PM
I agree, I always give 20% because I know I would be a really shitty waitress. They work hard!posted by livey on June 5, 2005 11:36 PM
Most impressive young woman, and good for you for rewarding her accordingly. The country needs more like her (and you).posted by Jim - PRS on June 6, 2005 02:35 AM
Was she pretty? Good for you Key, I always tip good and the better the service, the larger the tip. We do need more people like her in the eating business, most of them suck, but I would to, if I had to wait on some of these sorry ass customers. Some custoners are very mean and look down on the help. I am an old biker and all of our girlsfriends use to wait tables, we know all about that trade. So when you are out eating and it is time to tip the help, please think about me and all of my ex girlfriends who slaved to take care of my sorry ass, Catposted by catfish on June 6, 2005 11:42 AM
I waited tables for years and I was damn good at it. I worked as a trainer and advisor for several restaurants, helping increase server productivity.
I almost always tip 20%, sometimes more if they are really good. Half-assed service gets 15%. If they suck...leaving me waiting and waiting and waiting AND screw up my order, they get 10%. However, I have a rule. If the server meets all of the criteria on which I used to base my training, I tip 50%. That seldom happens, but every now and then, I find an excellent server.
I am glad that you recognize the work that this server puts into her job. It's hard work!! Bless you for recognizing a job well done - in all aspects!posted by Dana on June 6, 2005 01:47 PM
Depends on how drunk I am!!!posted by Yabu on June 6, 2005 02:59 PM
Anyone who's hung with me knows I tip generously, to a fault, even. But I've left nickel tips, too. Sometimes a person needs to know THEY SUCK! But that is extremely rare. Even poor service gets 15% from me. Often not their fault. And I never punish the waitstaff for the sins of the kitchen. I did get pissy in Jekyll, but I tipped well.posted by Velociman on June 6, 2005 05:36 PM
You sure did get pissy, Vman...I really thought I earned more than 10 percent, though. Darn it, I worked hard for that money...
In all seriousness, I'm with you, Key. My sister always gives me a hard time because she insists that I overtip but that's hard work they do. I mostly stuck to washing dishes and working in the back but I know that (generally) the waitstaff work their tails off.
You should have asked her if she blogged, too. ;-)posted by zonker on June 6, 2005 06:14 PM
For the record I left 25% at Jekyll, after drunkenly insinuating that my waitperson might be, just possibly, romantically involved with a burro. Simple misunderstanding, is all.posted by Velociman on June 6, 2005 07:29 PM
Frankly, I almost always tip 20% because it's easier to calculate in my head with too much thought.
However, lately I find that I'm tipping everyone, and unfortunately, it seems to be expected....little tip cups at Subway, at the dry-cleaners, at the ice cream parlor.
Exactly, how much friggin service am I getting at a fast-food joint to rate an additional tip?
When someone truly deserves it, I, like you, tend to go high, and feel good about it.
Unfortunately, not many really deserve these days. Good for you for taking care of someone who did.posted by jmflynny on June 6, 2005 10:50 PM
Ah, that annoys me too...the tip jars everywhere. Of course, I will throw my change in there. But I figure they're making $7/hr, while the genuine restaurant servers are averaging $2-3/hr plus their tips...meaning THEY are actually working for tips. That is their sustenance. Meat, not gravy. (And that's not to mention the fact that many servers end up having to tip out.)posted by Key on June 6, 2005 11:05 PM
If I flipped a Ben at a smiling little 18 year old waitress, I'd get my pee-pee slapped damn quick.
That's why I let the Goodwife pay.posted by Anton on June 7, 2005 03:59 PM
That girl is going places. I hope you can keep track of her for us.posted by Lord Whorfin on June 7, 2005 04:51 PM
With one daughter having waitressed and worked in cafes for many years and the other having driven the Beer Cart at the local Country Club (yep - the Mistress was the Beer Bitch), I've cultivated a healthy respect for the 20% tip. These people work damn hard for that money.
It's rare that I will smack someone with a 10% or less "lesson tip," and if I do, I'll explain exactly why. Maybe it'll just piss 'em off, but just maybe they'll learn something.posted by Elisson on June 7, 2005 09:19 PM
On the flip side, I was out with friends and we had this horrendous waiter.. (Olive garden here in Roswell) One thing that stood out was his "refill" of my Coke. Rather than the fresh glass I needed, he simply dumped more soda in atop of the glass I currently used. He got a $.04 tip that night from our ENTIRE table.posted by Nancy on June 10, 2005 02:04 PM
« Hide Comments
1. I have blog friend issues. I know this, because all but a couple defied blog etiquette 101 on my first meme post by not commenting even though they were linked! I am now officially eating worms. They are best chopped, fried, and served over a bed of spinach leaves. And I recommend the raspberry vinaigrette.
2. More importantly, the 2 newbies that I tagged in that post are very new to blogworld. How new are they? They are sooo new, that they know not the wonders of Sitemeter and Blogrolling, nor do they know what it means that they have been tagged. But they are bright minds, so I know they'll figure it out. In fact, this post is actually a sad attempt to pimp them.
However, I urged them to do this little thing, and so pimp I will try. Of course, if any of you gracious and prolific bloggers like what you see, feel free to assist me in the linkage duty here.
Now I must ask you a question. If I were to tell you that a severed bloody limb lay on the ground before you, would you look? If so, you might enjoy Clockwork Orange Happier. If you prefer the humorous thoughts of a literature prof, try Ophelia.
(Both will be added to my blogroll momentarily. I hesitate to call them my blogspring though, as my children seem to have a tendency to run away from home....even the chosen one!)
Update: At least one, if not both of the newbies are out of town and without connection for the weekend, so if any of you kind souls linked them, give them a couple of days to find you, thank you, and update accordingly.
Show Comments »
I've made the same mistake myself though. Didn't know shit about blogging etiquette until recently and I have been posting on mine for quite awhile now. Not that I am making excuses for anyone, they can do that themselves.posted by Richard on June 3, 2005 10:19 PM
BTW, thanks for the link. Added Ophelia to my blogroll earlier.posted by rmiles on June 3, 2005 10:20 PM
... thanks, sis.. far be it from me to offend.. those whippersnappers need to be jerked into line, though.. after all... we do have our standards..posted by Eric on June 4, 2005 12:01 AM
Hey, I had already done that meme, and since I *never* got a trackback ping from you, how should *I* know when you link to me...
If you want comments, you either have to ping me or piss me off. That's how I work, at least with married chicks, dear.
Oh,dear. I didn't know that was a rule. I rarely get a comment when I link to someone.
Oh, my. I have royally screwed up.
I'm sorry world.
I didn't know. It was not on purpose.
I should note that I have managed to royally piss off Jack a few times, and then he comments, but I like him anyway!
Again, so sorry. I go now to make a public apology.
Sh*t.posted by Beth Donovan on June 6, 2005 04:08 PM
Heh, I mock it and adhere to it at the same time. Of course, as I said in my email to you, "etiquette be damned, I just want attention!"
Why we're here, right?posted by Key on June 6, 2005 04:54 PM
So *this* is where Jack hangs out...
And since you're in a self-pitying, whiny mood, want a margarita?
It usually soothes the SWWBO-Monster!posted by John of Argghhh! on June 6, 2005 11:35 PM
Sheesh, there goes Donovan with those Triple Sec Margaritas again ;-)
Grand Marnier, John, Grand Marnier.
Pay me no attention whatsoever - I'm on enforced sobriety for two more weeks, and I'm clearly just jealous.
Hmph, I guess I just learned a lesson in blog-etiquette myself. I dread commenting, I tend to write more in comments than I do on my own blog.
Especially when I'm trading comments with my buddy Jack :-Pposted by Average Tobacco Chewing Joe on June 7, 2005 12:22 AM
Well John, I am Jack's "brat," so he comes by now and then, I think just to make sure I'm not stirring up any new trouble. (Of course, I usually do that on HIS site, so I feel ya pain Bro!)
As for you John...a link, a party, AND a margarita. I'm livin' large!
Thanks hon. ; )posted by Key on June 7, 2005 12:24 AM
The boys at Argghhh! The Home Of Two Of Jonah's Military Guys said to come on over and say hi.
Ko nichi wa from Japan. I was reading their blog and they said people should come here and comment.
*drags the 'ritamatic through the hole in the blogwall*
Oooof. This thing gets heavier with each mod Punc throws into it. Anyway, it's primed and ready to go, glasses are in the base, salt's under the doojigger on top and the scruples and bedoodlewhoopies are on call for cleanup.
Just keep them away from the Brasso--last time they polished this thing, the 'ritas tasted like fried ammonia for a week...posted by cw4billt on June 7, 2005 03:39 AM
ATC, all that chew has dulled your senses. There isn't a *drop* of Triple Sec in the Castle stores.
A Castle 'Rita is Cuervo Especial, Grand Marnier, mix, topped with Cointreau, on the rocks, with salt.
Ya want frozen, the blender is on the bar, have at it.posted by John of Argghhh! on June 7, 2005 06:56 AM
Dang, y'all are killing me . . . margaritas. Four years in Texas, and now I'm in the land of the Rising $2/lime Sun, and you're having a . . .
Aaaaahhhhh. That went down great, John. Does it have friends?
...carefully does it with the RitaMatic, Chief- you don't want to upset the calibration of the stabilizing gyro. The gyro eliminates oscillation when the turbo-supercharger (ex P-38) spins up...
mmmmmmmmmmm... breakfast 'Rita!!!!
Coming from a fellow baby blogger... I, too, have linky love issues to resolve. It's a sad, sad story, one I won't bore you with, but it all started when I was born a po' lil' black chil'... oh drat.. that wasn't me. It was some other Jerk.
John, that's MY kinda marg you're serving! As I always say- if you're gonna do something... do it right. Now GIMME! *slurp*
Oh now you did it! You have let loose the blogs of war! Especially the Denizens of the Castle.
*swats at a bedoodlewhoopie*
I am offering non alky drinks of Le Mon D'Aide, Juice a la Orange and Iced Jasmine Tea, prepared Thai style.
*settles in chandelier and waits for the Bodacious Ya Yas*posted by Cricket on June 7, 2005 09:01 AM
Hee. Those BCR Lab Specials are useful, eh, Cricket? The Anti-Grav so you could bring it from the Castle over here to Key's Place?posted by John of Argghhh! on June 7, 2005 09:38 AM
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to entertain at a party. And me, with this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side.posted by Marvin on June 7, 2005 09:59 AM
Whoo -- Party time is starting Early today ... or I'm late from last night! Either way, I can't drink and drive - but I'll stop by for a 'rita later, if that's okay.posted by Barb on June 7, 2005 10:18 AM
Cricket needs to get the kitchen 'round here fired up!
Need some crudites' and other comestibles!posted by John of Argghhh! on June 7, 2005 10:26 AM
Well, Bill was wondering about all the mods to the rita machine. I guess it has become quit the hernia load.
*snaps towel at a scruple's backside, resumes chatting*
Anyway, I agree.posted by Cricket on June 7, 2005 10:32 AM
I'm starvin... what's for lunch?posted by AFSister on June 7, 2005 10:38 AM
I dunno, Cricket's been bedoodlewhoopie whacking and jaw-jawing, so the kitchen is *not* in production...posted by John of Argghhh! on June 7, 2005 11:04 AM
Vittles on the griddle:
Ruebens on Rye
Dessert: Peanut Butter Cookies with chocolate chips. Cold milk and for those who need a kick with their Moo, Kaluha and coffee with their Moo and a shot of cream.
*shoos Moat Monster away from cookie dough*posted by Cricket on June 7, 2005 11:09 AM
Now *that's* my Cricket!posted by John of Argghhh! on June 7, 2005 12:06 PM
Yum!posted by Key on June 7, 2005 12:08 PM
party? somebody say par-taaaay?
here I am. *snags a glass and heads tot he rita machine* mmmm...this is going to go so good with my darvocet this morning.posted by kat-missouri on June 7, 2005 12:32 PM
Pills are goooooooood.posted by Dumb and/or Dumber on June 7, 2005 12:41 PM
Honey, NONE of the 5 I tagged did the meme. Two took the time out to email me with a "too busy" or "I don't do that kind of thing", but the others just blew it off... which is fine, it was just for fun.
Just so you know... there are ALWAYS others out there worse off than you.... LOL!posted by pam on June 7, 2005 01:03 PM
Worse? You don't even know the worst of it.posted by Marvin on June 7, 2005 02:33 PM
*grabs oversized 'Rita glass and marches off in direction of 'Rita-matic*
*Pours big glass and gulps it down*
Hmm, what're all these doo-hickies for anyway...
Hey, this looks neat, I wonder if it can be plugged into the spare choco-thrower?
Aren't we s'posed to have some engineering types around here?posted by Masked Menace© on June 7, 2005 02:39 PM
Ack! More cleaning to do when the revelers leave, and I haven't finished the chandelier at Arrggghh! yet. Sigh. Good luck Key, these jokers and the 'rita matic are gonna bust your will to read your comments section.posted by ry on June 7, 2005 02:40 PM
Hey, look at all the doilies...this must be a lady's blog. [Steps back outside and wipes feet.] Worms are a good protein source, ya know?posted by Cowboy Blob on June 7, 2005 02:41 PM
*Ewell Gibbons Voice*
"And some parts of the pine tree *are* edible, for that nice veggie component to your worm dish."posted by Ewell of Heaven on June 7, 2005 02:50 PM
That's why I don't have a blog, so I can stay in the background, lurk, and occasionally comment.
Let them eat cake!posted by Lord Whorfin on June 7, 2005 04:44 PM
*runs in, lugging Mk1(mod) Warm Chocolate Fudge Thrower... Pressurizes tank and cuts loose, coating area with Godiva Hot Fudge...*
Hi! The Gun Line Rep has commented! Ooh-Rah!
*tips hat, runs out*posted by Sgt. B. on June 7, 2005 05:19 PM
The Donovan sent me. Whiny? You and Marvin ain't got nuthin on me. I'll tell ya what they told me, suck it up and proceed.
Nah, didn't work for me, either.
Grit yer teeth, curl up, and wait it out.
It's just blogs.posted by Justthisguy on June 7, 2005 06:03 PM
*wipes cooling chocolate from table-top, licks fingers*
Yumm - Godiva fudge, good stuff.
JTG ... Whaddya mean, it's just blogs? Them's fightin' words !!posted by Barb on June 7, 2005 06:30 PM
Well, re comments on Neffi's RitaMatic I gotta say the man is obviously a genius. I graduated MIT as Magnum Come Loudly and I couldn't replicate or improve this fine design- and installing a TSC on the intake manifold was brilliant, just brilliant. In terms of throughput, this device can (at maximum capacity) supply the needs of any Cinco de Mayo celebration in the country. [Note- max cap must not exceed 60 seconds, lest the methanol boost system over-tax the liquid cooled cylinder block].
In addition, this Neffi guy is known to be bright, witty, handsome, generous, kind, macho, and thoroughly versed in the arts. He is everything I want to be, but can't (sob)
..and Chief- next time you move the RitaMatic, do unlock the castering, pneumatic wheels- much easier, eh? heh
Jeez, what can I say? MechGen- apply yourself, and you too can achieve; don't be so hard on yourself.
*rolling eyes @ Neffi*
Note to Key: Neffi is known for both his "creative" sense of reality and his many aliases... *grin*posted by FbL on June 7, 2005 09:37 PM
Em-Gee--You've obviously mistaken the CD undercarriage storage modules for castor-oiled pneumonic wheedles. Punc's latest mod was the a-grav generator, but ya still have to drag it because she bollixed the inertial nullification synchronicity (I *told* her not to sample the 'ritas while she's soldering).
Oh, yeah--Iron Butterfly and Frijid Pink should pop first when you fire up the mini CD player, if I read the LCD right. And if I didn't, it's gonna load the White Album and Goat's Head Soup...
Hey, John--how much more of this do ya think she can handle before she breaks down and springs for some decent wallpaper for this place?
[*whap*] YIPE!posted by cw4billt on June 8, 2005 02:31 AM
More choco pudding to clean? Sarge, thanks alot(trundles large cart of cleaning supplies around. Drags mop bucket behind). The internet don't clean itself you know.posted by ry on June 8, 2005 02:50 PM
Iff'n ye went to any Castle parties, you'd see that the fudge is self-cleaning... If it hasn't been consumed in three hours, it evaporates into a nice mist of nano-bots programmed to polish silver, lift stains, deodorize, clean the cat litterbox, and take the dog for a walk....posted by Sgt. B. on June 8, 2005 06:22 PM
Arrgghhh!posted by jdm on June 9, 2005 10:23 PM
Bill, the wallpaper would have been okay if you had used the a-grav suspension thingies on the Rita machine. But Nnnnnnnooooooooooooo. You had to attach it to Herbie the Love Chopper and bring it in
with a flourish.
Nicely done.posted by Cricket on June 10, 2005 01:25 PM
Alright already. Overwhelming guilt has forced me to write two lists.posted by Ophelia on June 11, 2005 05:41 PM
Its done. I have spent 11 days . . . ignoring blogging all together. But I did it . . . I finished your tag, oh dark queen of bondage. I ought to get into this racket. You link me a few times, then command the orders, right? Kidding . . . mostly. I feel so cheep and dirty. Oh, wait, thats how I always feel . . .
« Hide Comments
The end of The Gunslinger is up, and it is delivered by the hand of the great Velociwriter. Go now, and enjoy a brilliant gift, be both spoiled and humbled by his masterful prose...
Show Comments »
The MAN and each of the writers on this project have been incredible!
; )posted by Christina on June 2, 2005 09:31 PM
« Hide Comments
I have Faith, but I ain't preachy. I am, however, well enough educated in matters of the cloth to know when I'm sinning and feel the appropriate measure of guilt, as is the intent of the Southern Baptist. To them, I am a failure fo sho.
Anyhoo, regarding any sort of disagreement, there are rules of engagement that Brethren must adhere to, should they have any hope of being deemed in the right. This conditional exoneration matters more to some than others, but allow me to continue...
Simply, one is to take it first to the source of the dispute, then if unresolved it advances to the attention of the elders, and so forth.
Of course, the Bible also demands that we are to "obey the laws of the land," and so occasionally, local PD trumps the hierarchy.
On with the story...
Summer opens the doors of the Bible belt churches more frequently, and often houses the pent-up energy of our youth.
Recently, some boys decided to pick the site of a local church to bully a much younger boy. Six on two, smaller kids cornered, blows thrown repeatedly.
Before I continue, let me assure that the kids are fine. Well, no major injuries. Cuts, bruises, and the incident not doing much for still forming psyches, but otherwise okay.
Meanwhile, I find this disturbing. This is not a playground scrap. This is unprovoked bullying within a church atmosphere.
Given my compilation of observations, it would appear to me that here lies a segment of society once known for discipline, now emasculated, weakened over the past 15 years or so.
But to continue with the story...
Obviously thereafter lied parental v. parental confrontation. The response? Unbelting and tearing loose on the ruffians? No, that would be rash, harsh even.
"We need to have a meeting. Let us ask our boys why they felt the need to confront yours. We need to know if the situation was provoked in any way." That's right. What were they feeling? Perhaps they were punishing them, six on two, for their sins...
Meanwhile, I was raised to be terrified of "casting the first stone," having never myself been "without sin." None-the-less, I think I would have been tearing up some ass, were the perps my boys.
We don't do our children any favors by defending such behavior. That is so painfully obvious that I'm shocked to find myself typing it. I'm appalled though, that while I wasn't looking, the wussified influence seems to have begun an infiltration process even within the former "spare the rod and spoil the child" crowd.
Furthermore, assuming Christian protocol is not respected in such cases, these boys could easily find themselves in juvenile detention, with defending attorneys rather than defensive parents. (And personally, I'm not so sure that doesn't need to happen...)
I write this perhaps for myself. I am a loving, overprotective, strict disciplinarian. I have been accused of having a "lack of compassion," but I consider it "selective compassion." When children deserve compassion, they should get it. When they're wrong, they're wrong. They should know it.
The gray only confuses developing character. As an adult, I can take Live's advice and "learn to appreciate the beauty of gray," but with children, the laws of budding character need be in stone.
(And that is a lesson that I would have rather learned in my youth.)
Show Comments »
Oh my, Key. That is awful! Terrible! And they want to know if the victim brought it on himself?!?!
Oh, sorry, using too many exclamation points! This kind of idiocy just makes me crazy, lady!posted by Beth Donovan on June 2, 2005 08:04 PM
Um...no. Somebody needed their ASS kicked behind this, not some stupid, ineffectual meeting. GRRRR.posted by Kelley on June 2, 2005 09:45 PM
I spent much of my formative years preaching Spare the Rod to my parents. They were unmoved. Asswhipping by an authority figure teaches cause/effect. Not the first time, often, but eventually, yar. Of course, my church has a gay bishop now. Well, my old church. I'm a Hedonist now. MANY gay bishops.posted by Velociman on June 2, 2005 11:14 PM
I remember one of my last visits to a Southern Baptist Church. The minister was the old fashion fire and brimstone type and was getting heated up when he noticed a few children playing and not paying attention. He stopped his preaching and announced to the whole congragaton that he was about to lay hands upon the young offenders unless the parents beat him to it. The parents made the mistake of wanting to debate the issue, and the preacher layed thirty minutes of fire and brimstone, parenting and responsablity on the whole congregation. The next week the boys could have been in the choir.posted by James Old Guy on June 3, 2005 11:37 AM
I'm with you on that one Key. When I go to church, I'm usually on the back pew. Close to the door. It's just the way I was brought up, and the usual seat for me since childhood. See, if I screwed up in church, I knew an ass whippin' was on the way... I guess the back pew thing just took less time for Daddy to get to the spot where he would deliver it.
« Hide Comments
Although sleep would be better.
Ever noticed that if any member of the household can't sleep, mom isn't allowed to sleep either?
So Shrek couldn't sleep last night. Ergo, I am exhausted.
Shrek: I can't fall asleep. The cat won't get off my head. Will you get your cat?
Key: [Relocates cat.]
Shrek: Why is the dog whimpering? Does she need to go out?
Key: She's afraid of the storm. Do you want me to give her a muscle relaxer?
Shrek: No. It'll pass.
Shrek: [Jumping up, loudly] What is her problem?
Key: She's afraid of the storm. Do you want me to give her a muscle relaxer?
Shrek: No. It'll pass.
Shrek: Where are those muscle relaxers?
Key: In the medicine cabinet.
Shrek: How do you make her swallow it?
Key: Open her mouth. Drop it in. Shut her mouth until she swallows.
Shrek: [Cusses loudly.]
Key: I'm up. I got it. Go back to bed.
Shrek: Is it hailing outside?
Key: Wake me when it's breaking the window panes.
Shrek: I think that's hail.
Key: I AM GOING TO BEAT YOUR ASS!!!
Meaning...there will be no late night blogging for me. Besides, a little sleep is bound to do wonders for my mood.
Show Comments »
Totally related, but too embarassing for my husband to tell it in public: remind me on the phone sometime to tell you the story of Pete's recent "cat food" night. In light of this post, I think you will get a kick out of it.posted by kelley on June 2, 2005 09:47 PM
Sounds like Shrek needed the muscle relaxant.posted by Desert Cat on June 7, 2005 03:07 AM
Where do you get cat muscle-relaxants? anyone know how to drug hubbies without them knowing it?posted by Ophelia on June 11, 2005 12:44 PM
« Hide Comments
I don't even have virgin hair... But until now, I was an innocent in at least one sense, having never been visited by the meme fairy. Not even Alabama and I got tagged by my bro.
10 things I have not done, but intend to do before I die. I've adopted a travel theme for most of these, number one being the obvious exception...
1. I would like to perhaps eventually USE my college degree for the purpose in which it was intended...when and if I ever figure that out.
3. From there, we could mosey on over to Scotland, where the red-headed step-brat and his lovely bride are assigned tour guide duty.
4. While in the neighborhood, I must visit Ireland, as I owe a fraction of my blood to that fair land, thus sayeth my cousin, who has studied our roots. In fact, when we lost her brother, she (per his wishes) scattered his ashes over an off-the-beaten-path castle there. I would very much like to visit this castle with her, and I am certain that she will be letting me know momentarily the name of said castle. (Yes, I should know it. And I will. Shortly.)
5. Christina has a familiarity with London, so she has that tour. Although, I am as equally interested in her mother's homeland... so she has that tour as well, someday.
6. Costa Rican blogmeet courtesy he who is totally restless and somewhat native.
7. Adam and I need to go back to Honduras. We've each done some mission work there, and it never leaves you. It just doesn't. Maybe someday I will write of the beauty, of the lifestyle, of how I washed clothes in the river and showered under a cold trickle... keeping a watchful eye on the four inch "baby" scorpion on the concrete block wall. But obviously, I need more than a paragraph to devote to this topic.
8. My girl and I need to do a cruise. This needs to be a very long cruise of the all inclusive variety. I want no rock climbing wall or ice-skating rink. No busy work. However, many Caribbean isles need to visited, as it is all about taking in the beauties of nature, and breathing the herbal goodness.
9. And when I get brave enough to take that trip to visit the land of the dancing bears, I know who to call. And, should I opt for the regular old bears, an Alaskan cruise will work.
10. Last but not least, it would be shameful for me to pass on without exploring our fine homeland, sea to shining sea, so I intend to do just that. And the sooner the better.
Tagging it on. I pass this meme to only one, and this one more virginal than I, as tonight is her FIRST POST EVER! Please go say hello to my first cousin Ophelia, as on this first night out, she explores the wonders of sex and ramen noodles.
Update: One more tag: It's always fun to tag someone who is sure to HATE this meme thing. And so, while there are many to choose from on the blogroll, I choose some new blood. Go now, Clockwork Orange Happier, and write your ten things that you haven't done, but intend to do before you die.
Show Comments »
When are we leaving??
I'm in major escape mode. I suggest we book a flight to Paris and have ole' Jack meet us there.
; )posted by Christina on June 2, 2005 10:10 AM
.. it'd be my pleasure to show you Scotland, girl... it's a beautiful place...posted by Eric on June 3, 2005 03:50 PM
Well, you shouldn't have any trouble with #2 - once my kidneys have recovered from the previous 40 years of mistreatment, I'll be ready to subject them to another 40 years.
Sorry I'm late checking out your list, I've had Wordpress blog woes, recently addressed by shitcanning WP and going back to Moveable Type.posted by Average Tobacco Chewing Joe on June 4, 2005 09:49 AM
Good luck getting Clockwork to conform enough to participate.posted by Ophelia on June 11, 2005 12:46 PM
I fucking did it. Where's my damn cookie? And such a sweet cookie it is. The cookie . . . of victory . . .posted by A Clockwork Orange Happier on June 12, 2005 06:09 AM
« Hide Comments