Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Friday, August 28, 2009

If At All Possible, Involve A Cow

More Tales From A Misspent Youth

I borrowed the title of this post from a fine book by Neil Steinberg called 'If At All Possible, Involve A Cow - The Book Of College Pranks'.

I purchased that book soon after its release in 1992, at the time being an undergraduate in college. It seemed to be a more relevant purchase than most of my required textbooks. The book (allegedly) served as inspiration for a number of pranks, major and minor, that occurred on my college campus between 1992 and my graduation 3 years later.

Most of the hijinks never rose to the level of faking an entire edition of a college newspaper, or convincing half of a football stadium to hold up cards saying "We Suck". Still, pranks were pulled, and fun was had. No doubt it's a perfect coincidence, but one of the most despised university presidents at that noble institution also arrived in 1992, and departed in disgrace from the office about the time I graduated, whereupon the pranks mysteriously ceased. Like I said, a perfect coincidence...

I will not tell that particular tale here, however. For one thing, it did not involve a cow, but an entirely different barnyard animal. For another, I'm still fuzzy on whole statute of limitations thing, so to hear the whole story, you must find me at a blogmeet and ply me with bourbon.

The prank I blog about today did indeed involve a cow. A dried-out weather-beaten husk of a cow, but still a cow.

Let's drift back through the years to the Summer of 1988... El Capitan was taking a sabbatical from college due to low grades and the lack of a suitable degree program in Advanced Alcohol Consumption, Nocturnal Carousing, and Wholesale Herbal Marketing Studies.

My boon companions in those bygone days included a gaggle of brainy desperadoes from Rice University including Woody the Stork, Ken the Freshman, Scotty the Chemist and Rich the Semi-Albino. Also in attendance were High School chums Zibig & Boo-Boo, and a few other slackers and layabouts that we attracted like moths to a flame.

El Capitan's usual routine was to work like a dog Monday through Friday from 8 to 5. Friday afternoon I'd get my paycheck, and dash off to the bank to cash it. 20+ years later, and I still remember the net amount... $187.68.

Cash in hand, I'd head off towards the Rice U. area, and meet the gang at Valhalla, the Graduate pub on campus down in the basement of the Chemistry building.

Ah, Valhalla. In 1988, a plastic cup of Shiner bock was 50 cents. A pitcher was $4. We'd usually forgo the cups, and swill directly from the pitcher. By sundown, we were well-lubricated and looking for a diversion. Following a quick pause for herbal enlightenment at the 45, 90, 180 sculptures, we'd hit the town. (On a side note: Getting laid atop 180 earned a Rice student heap big coup!)

The world was our oyster. In El Capitan's aging chariot "The War Wagon", we could head to Fitzgerald's or Numbers for live music. Lola's for $2 well drinks and the evil concoction known as a Mind Eraser. Or off to La Jalisciense for burritos as big as your arm and cold bottles of Negra Modelo, or over to One's A Meal for pancakes and gyros.

One hot summer evening we decided to head off down Richmond Avenue in search of a bar shaped like a giant boat. Supposedly it was a raucous party bar, and we had to go see what all the fuss was about. I don't recall that we ever made it. I seem to think we got sidetracked by the pints of Guinness and Harp at the Richmond Arms Pub.

Sometime around Dark:30, we felt the need to return to the University area, probably to reload on the marijohoonie supply. In my semi-inebriated state, I felt that a slow crawl down busy streets would be preferable to weaving on the freeways. So, back down Richmond to Shepherd, then south to University.

As we passed the huge strip mall at Richmond & Sage, someone made a comment about all the hicks filling up the parking lot. I'm pretty sure Eddie Murphy's line from '48 Hours' was mentioned. "I've never seen so many backwards-ass country fucks in my life!!"

Houston in 1988 was in the waning years of the Urban Cowboy honky-tonk craze. I'm pretty sure the big nightclub that anchored that strip center used to be the old Faces meatmarket, but it had morphed into a huge country-western joint. Hell, it might have morphed back that summer. I lost a lot of brain cells that year, things get fuzzy...

Anyway, aghast at the huge number of booted, buckled and Stetsoned carousers, we drove in for a closer look. 6 lit-up proto-hippies in a Dodge wagon did NOT blend into that crowd, so we stayed on the edge of the parking lot. For reasons I cannot now fathom, we decided to roll back behind the club. Possibly we were hoping for a left-out keg of beer. Who knows...

We did not find a keg of beer. We did find a life-sized stuffed cow bolted on a 4' x 8' plywood platform! It was just sitting out there, soaking up the sun and rain, and looked pretty ratty. The black hair was worn through in many places, and it looked like more than one cowboy had leaped on its back and applied their spurs. It didn't have real horns, but replacements carved out chunks of two by four and painted white.

Well, this was too good a treasure to leave for the garbage truck. It took all of 10 seconds to convince the guys to get out and help me boost the thing up onto the roof of the station wagon. Damn thing weighed a ton, and it was precariously balanced on the roof luggage rack.

So, imagine if you will, a station wagon full of long-haired & tie-dyed kids reeking of beer and weed creeping out from behind a honky-tonk with a 5 foot tall dead cow standing on the roof of the vehicle, our arms emerging from each window with a death grip on the rough wooden platform.

Luck was with us and the cow that evening... we drove the 10 miles or so back to campus without ever crossing paths with Johnny Law. Man, did we ever get some strange looks from the other drivers. Can't imagine why...

So, safely back from Beyond The Hedges, we dumped Bossy the Cow out in the quad at Hanszen College, and repaired indoors for a refill.

We came back down to find that others had been molesting the cow in our absence. It now sported a racy new paint job, a mix of electric pink and off-white spraypaint stripes and splotches.

So, what to do with a stuffed cow? First thing was to remove it from the platform. A wrench was found, and soon Bossy was jammed into the turf via the long carriage bolts that protruded from three hooves. Without the platform, it weighed less, but was completely lacking in carrying handles. I accidentally wrenched off one of the horns trying to reposition it in front of the Hanszen Commons.

Someone decided that Bossy would look really good perched on the lap of Willy.

Willy is actually William Marsh Rice, the founder and namesake of the university. Now, Willy's been dead for quite a while, but conveniently left a statue in the middle of campus, a statue that has been the target of many minor pranks over the years, and one memorable one that had occured earlier that spring.

My wagon was too big to navigate through hedges and sidewalks, so Bossy was carried to Woody's car "Buffy", the glass-bottomed Chevette. Buffy was small enough to maneuver close enough to the Academic Quad, where we could bail out, dash over to the statue with the cow, and toss it up in Willie's lap.

It seemed a sound plan, and indeed we did actually set foot onto the Quad bearing the expired bovine.

Alas, we had not counted on the increased surveillance by the Campos following that spring's statue rotation prank. No sooner had we reached the base of the statue with the cow when red & blue lights started flashing.

Fortunately, there's nothing in Rice U's Honor Code prohibiting cartage of a dead cow across campus, and Bossy never did come into contact with Willy, so we were banished back to Hanszen with the cow. So close, and yet so far...

I'm not quite sure what became of the cow. I'd like to think it had a place of honor at a Night of Decadence party and was the object of drunken lust, but more likely it got burrowed into by squirrels and eventually got thrown in a dumpster.

So, there you have it. A college prank involving a cow.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Weirdness Abounds

Headin' Into The Dog Days

There's a lot of weird shit goin' on out there...

Here's a random sampling:

Had a sit-down over at one of The Man's institutes of incarceration the other day in order to dispense some pearls of wisdom to the staff. While sitting outside in my truck, I witnessed a lady cop with an ass as wide as an axehandle berating some poor schmuck on the sidewalk. As she turned and stomped off in a huff, I took a peek at her duty weapon, just to see what it was. Appeared to be an H&K USP, but definitely a Plastic Fantastic bullet-flinger. It also had a dark gaping hole in the grip. She was walking around without a magazine in the weapon. W....T...F...

There was a Hispanic guy passed out on the sidewalk of the paint store right next to the Taco Bell near my house. Laid out, arms flung wide, and dead to the world, surrounded by empty taco wrappers. I decided I'd rather eat at Wendy's.

When one or more black olive slices fall out of your Subway sandwich and roll across the floor, studies have shown that 2 out of 2 cats will not eat it, but they will lick the meatball juice off of the olive slice.

If you're going to hire someone to search the yard for a lost heirloom ring, post a notice in a prominent place, like maybe the front door. This prevents a sleepy resident from getting a gun out and throwing down on the guy with the metal detector and shovel rooting through the flowerbeds at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I'm just saying, is all...

Keep your head down, y'all. It's a long way until winter!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Smells Like Gin-Soaked Pork!

This Is Not A Nice Post. Mary Jo's Ghost Made Me Do It.

OK, I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but has anyone considered the fact that if we were to bury Ted Kennedy face down, we could jam a wick in his bunghole and use him for a candle? Hell, all that lard & ethanol, he'd fuel his own eternal flame...

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Too Clever By Half

Hoisted By Mine Own Petard!

One of the side attrations at the LOLCats site is the LOLCelebrity page.

I was doodling around on it one day, and saw the daily "Vote On This" photo. The caption was just completely lame, and I knew I could do better.

So, I thought about it for a while, and inspiration struck!

All to no avail, however. My picture proved about as popular as the proverbial turd in a punchbowl. No one was getting the joke.

It finally dawned on me that I was just too obscure with the reference. See, there's a bunch of things you'd have to know before you'd get the joke. Here's a short list:

1) The existence of SlashFic

2) The existence of Star Trek SlashFic, specifically.

3) 1960's Cinemascope epic films

4) Knowledge of the specific deleted scene from a 1960's Cinemascope epic film

5) Have actually SEEN the deleted scene from the 1960's Cinemascope epic film

and so forth...

Anyway, I still think it's pretty funny. Kudos to the first commenter that matches the caption with the source material!


Please Don't Sneeze On The Kitty!

OK, this one made me giggle for a while...

That reminds me... I need to run a broom under the bed to chase out all the dustbunnies before they gang up on Betsy Cat!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Odd Jobs

Pachyderm Airways... 100% Widebodies!

This has got to be an interesting job...

"Hello. I need to book an elephant. One way to Hyderabad, with a connection to Mysore."

"There's a Jumbo leaving Calcutta at 3 p.m., Sahib."

"I've got a lot of luggage. Is that a problem?"

"Not a problem, Sahib! There's plenty of room in the trunk!"
(*rimshot* on a tabla)

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Thousand Dollar Day

"On The Road Again! Just Can't Wait To Get On The Road Again!"

It's not often I drop a grand in a single day. Kinda makes a tingle run up your spine, starting at your wallet and ending in the top your skull.

Oh, I know, there's probably a lot of you out there cutting checks every month for mortgage notes that run 4 figures. This is just a rare occurrence for me. Hell, it's remarkable that I even had that much in the bank account...

Before I get into details, let me just extend a warm "THANK YOU" to all the kind bloggers that offered assistance and referrals regarding my chronically-damaged pickup truck. I went with a local option just to reduce the overall PITA factor in trying to get a sputtering truck moved across town. I'm at the stage where expending a few many extra dollars is marginally preferable to spending all day working up a sweat and banging knuckles under a car hood.

So, the big news... Big Red, aka Atropos the Death Truck, is running again. I took it to a local auto shop that had the AAA Auto Club seal of approval, and they knocked out most of the major issues. Aside from the chronic engine sputter, I'd had my ABS dashboard warning light turn on, and one of my tailpipes had broken loose a couple of weeks ago and was balancing on the rear axle.

That ignition coil problem? Turned out to be bad coils AND a broken spark plug. They had to drill the bad plug out and then replace the coils & plugs on cylinders 7 & 8. Since my now-kicked-to-the-curb former mechanic had said he'd replaced all my old plugs (and I paid the tariff for the job), he & I are going to have a little chat in the near future.

Oh, yeah... they also found a cracked PCV valve hose. Their explanation? "Well, we can see where someone was trying to repair it. It looks like he got one side fixed, but cracked the other side in the process."

So, the tailpipe's rewelded, and I no longer have exhaust fumes creeping up into the cab and a huge steel pipe banging the ground every time I hit a bump. There's still a chance I'll need to replace the muffler, but it's OK for now. A hideously expensive gadget in the ABS system was replaced, so now I need no longer fear plowing into a herd of bicyclists that infest Memorial Park.

There's still a boatload of problems. An electrical short somewhere in the turn signal/emergency flasher circuit is still burning out $70 relays with depressing regularity. The cruise control has never worked. A steering wheel bearing race has ruptured, spilling dozens of tiny ball bearings onto the driver's side carpet. The driver's window motor is kaput. The plastic fascia over the HVAC controls and radio is falling off. It needs new shocks, wiper blades, front left turn signal bulb & lens, and a good wash & wax job.

Still, it runs. The new tires and alignment are nice. I took it out on the freeway, and at 60+ mph there was barely 12-15 inches of drift in about 1/4 of a mile.

So, watch out bloggers! El Capitan is back on the road (knocks LOUDLY on wood) and is heading to a blogmeet near you. It's way past time for another BBQ afternoon in Lockhart!

The final tab for yesterday?

$70 for new Rockport boat shoes
$9 for a book off of eBay
$49 for a tank of gas
$872.05 for truck repairs
$35 for congratulatory dinner at Boudreaux's Cajun Kitchen.

Having a truck that will reach highway speeds? PRICELESS!!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Cutest Niece In The World!

UncleBlogging. It's MommyBlogging Without The Commitment!

I hope your blood sugar is in order, 'cause this sweetie's gonna spike it through the roof!

You think she's cute now, you oughta see her scampering around on tiptoes making penguin noises!

Monday, August 17, 2009

PhotoShop Phailures

Let There Be Lips!

I ran across this Photoshopped pic on a wallpaper board. At first it was intriguing. Y'know, the luscious lips, the strawberry tongue...

But then, discontent crept in.

It's lopsided. Disturbingly so. The lower lip looks like it was inflated with a gas station air pump. Those teeth look like an afterthought.

Finally, if you stare at the tongue for too long, it stops looking like a ripe berry, and starts looking more like a bad case of the Lower Slobbovian Tongue Mite infestation.

Besides, if that tongue were licking certain body parts, think how bad those strawberry seeds would start to abrade after awhile...

Friday, August 14, 2009

Baboon Repellent

More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys!

While traveling on vacation, it's entirely possible you will be set upon by a marauding troop of baboons. Baboons love piracy, chilidogs, trashy novels and cheap liquor, and aren't shy about demanding "tribute" for passage through their territory.

The lady in the picture below was overconfident, and put her faith in modern locks and latches in the vain hope it would repel the Baboon Pirates.

Alas, she was sorely disappointed:

Remember, when traveling in Baboon Country, use a means of conveyance suitable for the task!

And even if you do use armored transport, leave a bottle of bourbon on the bumper as a peace offering. You never know when those clever little paws will figure out how to mold shaped charges...

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!!

Please Report This Fishy Info To The White House!

There's something that must be said...

To Chris Matthews, who got a load of sand in his vagina over a man who legally carried a gun outside a town hall meeting...

To Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee, aka Queen Sheila, for taking a cell phone call at the podium of a town hall meeting while a constituent asked you a question...

To Rep. Gene Green, for requiring town hall meeting attendees to show a photo ID to enter, though you voted against a law requiring photo ID for voters...

To Rep. John Conyers, for not seeing the point in reading a 1000 page bill that he will be voting on,

To Glenn Beck, for your continued unmanly histrionics and general crybaby attitude,

To William "Dollar Bill" Jefferson, for getting convicted on 11 counts of public corruption,

To the SEIU, who should add jackboots to go with their purple shirts,

To Jerry Jones, Bud Adams, and Drayton McLane, just on general principles,

This message is for you!

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Old Crow (In A Plastic Bottle)

Seconds & Thirds From A Fifth Of Fourth-Rate Hooch

I posted a comment the other day over at Velociman's crib. He was seeking a cheaper grade of Who-Hit-John following a pay cut.

Naturally, I had to recommend Old Crow bourbon. It's got all the vitamins and nutrients a growing liver needs, and you can still get a half-gallon jug for under $20.

V-man was kind enough to reply via email with an anecdote regarding the Senator and a reference to Old Crow from his youth. He recalled an Old Crow sign that hung from the barroom door at a local watering hole.

Probably looked a bit like this, only with more cardboard, and less electrical foofuraw...

I, too, have a youth that was haunted by the Old Crow. Dad & I were involved in the YMCA Indian Guides program in the mid to late 1970s. The Indian Guides were a kind of low-rent Cub Scouts that put Dad & Lad into tribes instead of troops. The program has since been stomped out due to political correctness forbidding the stereotyping of Indians Native Americans Migratory Aboriginal Eco-Respectful Pangaea-Dwellers.

We drew the Crow tribe during the sign-up process, and soon met the other menbers and their tribe mascot, a huge Old Crow Bourbon advertising statue probably manufactured sometime during the Hoover Administration. Looked like this, only larger:

It caused a bit of stink when displayed from the top of the tribe's camper trailer on Indian Guide Pow-Wow campouts. The kids just saw a moldy old crow. The Perpetually Outraged saw a dangerous statue promoting alcohol abuse and licentious behavior. When the owner of the statue got wind of the complaints, he lit a Winston, cracked open a can of Hamm's beer and invited them to "Kiss my breechclout-covered ass!", if I recall correctly. I can't for the life of me remember his real name, just his "Indian name" of Square Bear. My other strong memory of Square Bear was him stubbing out a cigarette in the spill trail of gasoline from the fill-spout on his ski boat and insisting it wouldn't catch fire. (It didn't.) Weird guy, that Square Bear.

My next run-in with the Old Crow was in college, where I hooked up with a thrashgrass country-punk band called Killbilly as a roadie/hired thug/all-purpose gofer.

Old Crow was the drink of choice, except for bass player Richard, who preferred 2% cowjuice, and drummer Mike, who had a thing for Herradura tequila. The rest of the band swilled Old Crow like it was spring water on a hot day. Old Crow was incorporated into song lyrics, the stage act, and you could generally find a bottle tucked away in someone's gear.

The invention of the lightweight plastic "Traveler's Bottle" was a godsend. It eliminated the telltale "clink" of a glass bottle knocking against things, making smuggling liquor into clubs, restaurants and similar places much easier. Prior to the plastic bottle, I'd gone out and found a couple of hot-pink plastic squeeze bottles, and kept them filled and stashed with the T-shirt and CD swag in case someone needed a medicinal dose.

One night in Chicago, we'd fallen in with a rowdy troupe of Irish expats who led the group back to their midtown apartment for an after-gig hoo-raw. After dosing us with copious amounts of John Power & Son Gold Label Irish whiskey, ("Bushmills?? Jameson? Fook that horribl' shite! ONLY DRINK THE POWER!!!") they were wanting to know about this mythical "Old Crow".

Being charitable and completely blitzed, I dug around in my backpack and found one of the squeeze-bottles of Old Crow. Bear in mind this bottle has been rattling around in there for many days during a scorching summer, it's about blood-warm and tasting vaguely of hot plastic.

God, the looks on their faces when they took a slash of that stuff... "Best not fook wit' em, Seamus. If they drink this brutal shite day in, day out, they're off their nut!"

I haven't danced with the Crow in quite a while. The arrival of a steady paycheck allowed the liquor of choice to be pulled from a much higher shelf in the licka sto', and Maker's Mark became the preferred bourbon.

I'll have to pick up a bottle of Old Crow for old time's sake. The next blogmeet would be a good place to spread the love around...

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Mom Update

I'd Post Hospital Gown Pics, But She'd Hunt Me Down & Kill Me...

Howdy, all.

Mom's out of surgery and doing fine. She should be back home today sometime, where she will resume retirement and the despoilment of the grandkids.

Thanks for all the well wishes!

Monday, August 10, 2009

Choppin' On Mom

Can They Remove Her Nag Gland, Too?

Mom's checking into the hospital about now, she's scheduled for neck surgery in a couple of hours. Her neck bones and discs got all cattywhompus in that car wreck earlier this year, so the surgeon's gonna wire everything together.

Think happy thoughts, y'all. She's in better health than she thinks she is, but this kind of thing is still a rough road to travel for the "seasoned citizens".

Good luck, Mom! See you soon!

Mom & El Cap, circa 1970

Mom Grammy & granddaughter Grace, this year.

Friday, August 07, 2009

Back On Monday!

Truth Be Told, I'd Rather Be Sleeping.

Heading out to a family reunion in Salado, hitching a ride with my parents. Maybe we can swing by and pick up my sister, and we can have an old time family road trip, with the kids squabbling in the back seat, and the parents fuming up front...

See y'all Monday!

Thursday, August 06, 2009

A Pain In The Neck

Under ObamaCare, They'd Only Get Icepacks & Aspirin...

There's no lack of necks being sliced in this family...

Last year my sister & BIL got rear-ended on I-35 in Austin, causing him some serious neck problems.

Early this spring, Mom & Dad got their car rear-ended & totaled up in Arlington. Dad has been in physical therapy for some torn muscles & ligaments, but no surgery as it was a tossup whether an invasive procedure would do more harm than good at his age. Mom thought she was OK, but a recent MRI showed some serious intrusion by bulging discs in two neck vertebrae.

My uncle Bill has had ongoing neck issues for some time, and it was determined he would need surgery to relieve the chronic pain. He's 14 years younger than Dad, so age wasn't as much an issue.

My BIL had neck fusion surgery this spring. They wired together 3 or 4 of his neck bones, then dumped in cadaver bone chunks to aid in bone regeneration. He's not 100%, but is a lot better than he used to be.

Uncle Bill had his surgery this morning. He's in the ICU until Saturday, but the word is it went well, and he's doing great. I love this description of the procedure:
His diagnosis is severe cervical stenosis of his spinal cord, and he will have a posterior cervical laminectomy and fusion of the third through seventh vertebra to hopefully correct the stenosis.

Man, that's a lotta $5 words in that sentence...

Adding to the fun, Mom is going to be having a similar surgery on Monday, but she's only getting 3 neckbones fused.

I'm sort of amazed at the speed Mom got scheduled for surgery. From diagnosis to surgery date has been less than 4 weeks. Apparently, the NeckDoc was amazed her head hadn't fallen off, given the degree her discs had bulged into her spinal column.

So, raise your hand if you think under ObamaCare (or any single-payer system aka Socialized Medicine) a 70 year old woman in questionable health could have gotten serious surgery in such a short time? How about even getting scheduled for an MRI?

How about a 62 year old man? Hell, how about a 44 year old man in good health?

Well, to quote our President, "Maybe you're better off not having the surgery, but taking the painkiller!"

Uh, yeah. Thanks, but no thanks, Barry. I'll keep my private health insurance.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

The Day From Hell

Nobody Deserves This Kind Of Crap...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I must have been one hard-boiled kitten-stomping double-dealin' Skid Row Mofo in a past life, 'cause karma spent all day yesterday putting its boot up my ass.

First stop yesterday a.m. was over at one of The Man's facilities south of town to dispense some pearls of wisdom to a hall full of bureaucrats. The class liaison lackey swore up and down there'd be less than 30 in attendance. Knowing him to be a prevaricating slug, I schlepped in 35 training manuals just in case they tried to pack the class. 5 minutes before class started, the Director of that department swooped in with entourage in tow, bringing the total to 47, leaving many without a manual. So, right off the bat I'm looking like an incompetent boob. Naturally, the lackey is nowhere to be found.

About halfway through the class, it becomes clear that this Director has no compunctions at all about taking the reins from time to time, just jumping in whenever the mood strikes. The class stretches almost an hour longer than it needs to. I contemplate adding a Taser, ball-gag and hoodwink to my class supplies...

Back at the office, my right knee decides it is time to stage a revolt. I can't blame it, I've been abusing my knees for many years now. Still, I do need to limp about and operate foot pedals in the truck to get home, and OTC medications just aren't touching this pain.

While driving home, gritting my teeth every time I move my right leg, I hit a bump on Post Oak, and am rewarded by a loud metallic *CLANK* and a sudden increase in exhaust noise. Something has worn through, burned through, or fallen loose, and now I'm bypassing at least one muffler. Well, an exhaust bypass is cheaper than glasspacks, I suppose, but it's gonna piss off the neighbors... Sigh. Another $200 at least, probably $400 to fix this latest eff-up.

I get short-changed at Sonic, where they insist that a 12 oz milkshake is a "Large". When Whataburger has a 44 oz Large milkshake, and even Mickey D's has a relatively tasty 32 oz Large milkshake, Sonic needs to get their shit together ASAP.

Another teeth-gritting ride to the house, and I'm safe... Well, safe except for the lawn crew that failed to show up. The grass is deep enough to hide a yak, and the neighbor giving me the evil eye as he edges his putting-green yard doesn't help matters any.

I bypass the pile of cat puke in the hallway. It actually cleans up easier once it dries out a little, and there's always the off chance the other cat will find it a tasty treat.

I settle in front of the computer, pull out my Sonic burger & tater tots, and cue up 'The Pink Panther' on the DVD player. Some light comedy, and maybe I can relax.

Ten minutes later, the electricity gets cut off. Half the neighborhood goes dark. I contemplate drinking bourbon until I pass out.

We got power back after a couple of hours, but the damage had been done. A complete write-off for the day, and another YEA vote in the "Should El Capitan start growing weed in the garage" tally.

Hope your day was better than mine...

Monday, August 03, 2009

Bits & Pieces

All The Glues That's Flit To Squint

First of all, we have a winner in Friday's Weekend Caption Contest!

Naturally, I thought mine was funniest, but I'll admit that if you haven't seen the movie 'Fletch', the humor might be lost on you.

So, the funniest caption from someone other than the site host is...


His caption? "Oh, no! It's a Cajun with a recipe!"

Having known a few Cajuns, I can say with certainty they'd deep-fry a bulldozer if they could figure out how to get the hide off of it...

So, Mostly Cajun gets his choice of a random item from my desk drawer, or a frosty cold beverage at a local watering hole the next time he's called to Houston and has some time to kill.


Next... I'm off to a family reunion in Salado, TX this Friday. This means I'll be missing my usual First Friday Poker Night for the first time in ages. It won't be complete loss, I'll carry a deck of cards and see if I can't relieve my younger kinfolk of their allowance money. Hey, it's a time-honored family tradition! I got took for nearly $40 by my cousin Johnny when I was a wee lad of 13. You'll learn quick enough not to draw to an inside straight!


I had to do my first de-friending on Facebook. Most of my extended family, including the younger school-age cousins, have linked to each other, so I didn't see any problem "friending" the daughter of my brother-in-law's brother. What is that to me? Brother-in-law-in-law? Anyway, his family and ours have spent several holidays together, so I was not expecting the avalanche of horror when my sister and BIL saw "Holly" on my Friend list.

As it turns out, "Holly's" birth-mom is apparently batshit crazy, and looks for any means available to cause chaos and deviltry with my BIL's entire family. She's already used "Holly's" Facebook link with another sibling of BIL to gin up an accusation of molestation and abuse of "Holly". To hell with THAT noise... I de-friended and blocked "Holly" ASAP.

I hate to do that to a young kid with no explanation, but I certainly don't need any baby-momma drama, especially when I didn't have the dubious pleasure of being the sperm-donor in the equation...

Watch those social networking sites, y'all! They're not always fun & games!