Saturday, May 9, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Lime Scented Pine Trees of Zarahemla
Dear Bloginistas,
Just to keep you all up on what's happening in the ever exciting life of YHS, I decided to post this little communiqué dittie.
To sum it up, not much is really going on as my latest mission impossible has me traveling to Nashville (yawn y'all).
Of some note is that Her Hotness and I (and the pack) now have a new addition to the casa du Zarahemla. She goes by the name of Penny (the Pooper).
She is either a Pincher or a Manchester Terrier or (actually this part is an exact match) the canine with the shortest digestive tract ever.
She seems somehow to be able to process the mass quantities of food she snarfs down 10 times a day and instantly (and not wanting to be too graphic here) have it shoot out of her working end within 15 seconds after inhalation. Of course, much hilarity ensues trying to get her out the door before she performs this trick and the mop and trowel brigade is called in.
Luckily, she is cute as a button, if not a tad on the dumb side. Witness that she tries to lick the air when you talk to her. Hmm, or maybe my breathe just smells like dog food? Whatever, she still seems pretty cute and dopey.
Penny the Pooper's specs are:
Black and Tan all over with tan dots over her eyes and (somehow fittingly) a tan triangle over her working end. She has huge paws, and weighs in at approx 20 pounds (and counting). She's about a foot and a half high and two feet long.
We think she's about 4 months old.
Hans, and Bell (the dogs) and Bob and Milo (the cats) all hate her, but seem to be siding up to her more recently. Their verbal attacks all seem more subtle for now at least.
Um, what else is going on? Well, the 5 minutes I was home this last weekend I did manage to mow the lawn for the 1st time this year. Which reminds me that the white pine trees (sticks) that I planted all seem to be dying along nicely.
The only ones that might make it are the back corner ones. These conversely overlook downtown Boretrose (NE corner) and the one that I placed over Jake's (Penny's predecessor) grave (NW corner).
I have no idea why the ones outfront are all turning brown other than the common fact that I planted them all and I have no idea (surprise) what I'm doing.
It did seemed pretty straight forward. Dig a small hole and then place the tree (stick) in the hole and cover with some dirt. Add water to the mix and presto 25 years from now you'd have tree worth the name.
Somehow I may have missed the step where I'm supposed to put a fish in the hole or something. But I could be wrong. Not sure.
Hey speaking of Jake (the formally alive and world’s smartest dog) I have in my archives a NSFW hidden spycam satellite photo of Jake and Her Hotness(pant) “sunabathing” that I will post once I get back to Boretrose. This should be good for at least a week’s banishment on the couch.
On a happier note, Jenson Button won today’s Bahrain GP. Not real sure if the camel riding (polite term) crowd fully appreciated what they were watching, but what the hey? This is the go go naughts, zeros, zeds, nothings (BTW, what the heck do you call this decade anyways?), err tens minus one, so you now have to go with the flow (down the tube).
On a sillier note, if I forget to pack my underwear on a trip more then once a year, would this be considered an early sign of dementia? I’ll have to check with the online edition of ‘Ol Coot Monthly (now merged with Skeeze Magazine) to do a virtual e-evaluation on my sanity. Here’s hoping. (and changing)
Since I think the D&C is no longer just the Democrat and Chronicle (google it). Losing one’s BVDS is no laughing matter. Neither is the “itch down everywhere” after washing them (the only pair I now have enroute) out in the sink every night using Marriott’s finest shampoos.
At least they have a limey smell afterwards (if not before).
Here’s to just scratchin the surface (for now)…
YHS
Just to keep you all up on what's happening in the ever exciting life of YHS, I decided to post this little communiqué dittie.
To sum it up, not much is really going on as my latest mission impossible has me traveling to Nashville (yawn y'all).
Of some note is that Her Hotness and I (and the pack) now have a new addition to the casa du Zarahemla. She goes by the name of Penny (the Pooper).
She is either a Pincher or a Manchester Terrier or (actually this part is an exact match) the canine with the shortest digestive tract ever.
She seems somehow to be able to process the mass quantities of food she snarfs down 10 times a day and instantly (and not wanting to be too graphic here) have it shoot out of her working end within 15 seconds after inhalation. Of course, much hilarity ensues trying to get her out the door before she performs this trick and the mop and trowel brigade is called in.
Luckily, she is cute as a button, if not a tad on the dumb side. Witness that she tries to lick the air when you talk to her. Hmm, or maybe my breathe just smells like dog food? Whatever, she still seems pretty cute and dopey.
Penny the Pooper's specs are:
Black and Tan all over with tan dots over her eyes and (somehow fittingly) a tan triangle over her working end. She has huge paws, and weighs in at approx 20 pounds (and counting). She's about a foot and a half high and two feet long.
We think she's about 4 months old.
Hans, and Bell (the dogs) and Bob and Milo (the cats) all hate her, but seem to be siding up to her more recently. Their verbal attacks all seem more subtle for now at least.
Um, what else is going on? Well, the 5 minutes I was home this last weekend I did manage to mow the lawn for the 1st time this year. Which reminds me that the white pine trees (sticks) that I planted all seem to be dying along nicely.
The only ones that might make it are the back corner ones. These conversely overlook downtown Boretrose (NE corner) and the one that I placed over Jake's (Penny's predecessor) grave (NW corner).
I have no idea why the ones outfront are all turning brown other than the common fact that I planted them all and I have no idea (surprise) what I'm doing.
It did seemed pretty straight forward. Dig a small hole and then place the tree (stick) in the hole and cover with some dirt. Add water to the mix and presto 25 years from now you'd have tree worth the name.
Somehow I may have missed the step where I'm supposed to put a fish in the hole or something. But I could be wrong. Not sure.
Hey speaking of Jake (the formally alive and world’s smartest dog) I have in my archives a NSFW hidden spycam satellite photo of Jake and Her Hotness(pant) “sunabathing” that I will post once I get back to Boretrose. This should be good for at least a week’s banishment on the couch.
On a happier note, Jenson Button won today’s Bahrain GP. Not real sure if the camel riding (polite term) crowd fully appreciated what they were watching, but what the hey? This is the go go naughts, zeros, zeds, nothings (BTW, what the heck do you call this decade anyways?), err tens minus one, so you now have to go with the flow (down the tube).
On a sillier note, if I forget to pack my underwear on a trip more then once a year, would this be considered an early sign of dementia? I’ll have to check with the online edition of ‘Ol Coot Monthly (now merged with Skeeze Magazine) to do a virtual e-evaluation on my sanity. Here’s hoping. (and changing)
Since I think the D&C is no longer just the Democrat and Chronicle (google it). Losing one’s BVDS is no laughing matter. Neither is the “itch down everywhere” after washing them (the only pair I now have enroute) out in the sink every night using Marriott’s finest shampoos.
At least they have a limey smell afterwards (if not before).
Here’s to just scratchin the surface (for now)…
YHS
Thursday, April 16, 2009
How Do You Like the New Digs?
Dear Bloginistas,
In keeping with the whole world now seeming to have gone kookoo, I've now gone "green" and have changed the colour of my blog. This major "eco" change, I'm sure, will now tip the scales on our orb's tilt towards either us freezing to death or us self igniting. You can all thank me later.
BTW, please feel free to voice your opinion on my/our (we are all in this together remember) colour change. If I feel so inclined I may actually acknowledge such and change it back (or worse).
On a lighter note, Big Brother Google now has some scam where they can post ads on this hollowed (hallowed) site (if I so agree) and I allegedly will get some dosh back for doing so. All you have to do is click on my (our) site's ads about a quadrillion times (just like the national debt) and I will get paid some nominal sum for you doing so. Seems like a win, win, win to me.
The funny part is that Google will pick the ads based on the content of my blog. HA!
Geez, how in the heck is that going to happen considering the nonsense I can't help myself writing about? What idiotic sponsor would ever want to be part of this mess?
Lets see, with my demographics, my ads' broad targeted audience would be: (in no particular order)
1) Small mute Asian women
2) Old Italian formerly hot babes
3) Mormons with a Catholic guilt complex
4) Really frugal Her Hotness (pant) types
5) Gay Iowan farmers
6) Closet Cosmo readers
7) Freak show Walmart shoppers
8) Women(?) who drive Outbacks
9) President Erkel lovers
10) Gas Cramped Reindeer
Extra bonus pick: 11) Some guy named Guido
Sweet. I can see the cash rolling in now.
Here's looking at a new tax bracket....
YHS
In keeping with the whole world now seeming to have gone kookoo, I've now gone "green" and have changed the colour of my blog. This major "eco" change, I'm sure, will now tip the scales on our orb's tilt towards either us freezing to death or us self igniting. You can all thank me later.
BTW, please feel free to voice your opinion on my/our (we are all in this together remember) colour change. If I feel so inclined I may actually acknowledge such and change it back (or worse).
On a lighter note, Big Brother Google now has some scam where they can post ads on this hollowed (hallowed) site (if I so agree) and I allegedly will get some dosh back for doing so. All you have to do is click on my (our) site's ads about a quadrillion times (just like the national debt) and I will get paid some nominal sum for you doing so. Seems like a win, win, win to me.
The funny part is that Google will pick the ads based on the content of my blog. HA!
Geez, how in the heck is that going to happen considering the nonsense I can't help myself writing about? What idiotic sponsor would ever want to be part of this mess?
Lets see, with my demographics, my ads' broad targeted audience would be: (in no particular order)
1) Small mute Asian women
2) Old Italian formerly hot babes
3) Mormons with a Catholic guilt complex
4) Really frugal Her Hotness (pant) types
5) Gay Iowan farmers
6) Closet Cosmo readers
7) Freak show Walmart shoppers
8) Women(?) who drive Outbacks
9) President Erkel lovers
10) Gas Cramped Reindeer
Extra bonus pick: 11) Some guy named Guido
Sweet. I can see the cash rolling in now.
Here's looking at a new tax bracket....
YHS
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Hell No We Won't 'Mo
Dear Bloginistas,
Geez, is the world upside down or what? When you think of the bastion of liberal thinking in this country, where do you think of? Berkeley CA, New York City (said in a Pace Picante Sauce advert voice), or someplace like Harvard, right?
The last place, and I mean the last place, would be Clem Kadiddlehopper’s Pig Farm in Stenchville Iowa. But no, wait, somehow some citified (said with same Pace Picante advert voice) Iowa Supreme Court Judge (we even have a Supreme Court and why?) decided that marrying “gays” (the polite term) is now aok in Iowa. Somebody pinch me. Please make this is some kind of delayed April Fools joke and go away. Pretty please?
Um no, unfortunately this is, I guess all too true.
I’m imagining that this will go over real big on Ol Clem’s farm. Clem: “Hey, Zeb, I have two male pigs here that I want to mate. Do you think it will work?” Zeb: “Har, har Clem. That’s a good one. Everyone knows that two male pigs can’t mate, but if you and me want to get married that would be just dandy”.
This is going to be a real boon for our local economies. Every fruit, nut and flake will now want to come (sic) and honeymoon (puke) in Iowa.
On a happier note, Barky and Horseface just gave the Queen of England a big hug.
Disgustedly,
YHS
Geez, is the world upside down or what? When you think of the bastion of liberal thinking in this country, where do you think of? Berkeley CA, New York City (said in a Pace Picante Sauce advert voice), or someplace like Harvard, right?
The last place, and I mean the last place, would be Clem Kadiddlehopper’s Pig Farm in Stenchville Iowa. But no, wait, somehow some citified (said with same Pace Picante advert voice) Iowa Supreme Court Judge (we even have a Supreme Court and why?) decided that marrying “gays” (the polite term) is now aok in Iowa. Somebody pinch me. Please make this is some kind of delayed April Fools joke and go away. Pretty please?
Um no, unfortunately this is, I guess all too true.
I’m imagining that this will go over real big on Ol Clem’s farm. Clem: “Hey, Zeb, I have two male pigs here that I want to mate. Do you think it will work?” Zeb: “Har, har Clem. That’s a good one. Everyone knows that two male pigs can’t mate, but if you and me want to get married that would be just dandy”.
This is going to be a real boon for our local economies. Every fruit, nut and flake will now want to come (sic) and honeymoon (puke) in Iowa.
On a happier note, Barky and Horseface just gave the Queen of England a big hug.
Disgustedly,
YHS
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
If This Is Austin, Then This Must Be Wednesday
Dear Bloginistas,
Well if this is Tuesday, then this must be Orlando. The present mission impossible has me US trekking.
Funny how the happiest place on earth also happens to have the crappiest airport.
Trying to get through security is a joke. You'd of thunk that after having practiced for the last 40 years since Walt died they'd have this down by now. I guess not. I wonder if Mickey gets "walked right through"? That rat bastard.
I'm not sure if all of the chaos is because of all of kids (it looks like a Mormon convention put on by some Catholics) or all of the foreigners (Que?) or the ever present dazed old people (where am I?), but MCO is one screwed up mess. The worst I've ever been through. And while they are at it, maybe they could buy an air conditioner worth a darn (damn). After all this is Central Florida. Just a suggestion.
As a side note, on my last trip outta LAX (I think it was Monday) somebody said Usher (the singer?) was on the plane in 1st class. Even if I knew who he was, I guess I wouldn't have recognized him as he would have just looked like another (careful here) black Angelino to me. I think I need to maybe watch BET more (ever) to get up to speed on who's who in Hip(dip) Hop. Do I sound really white (ie old) or what?
What else is going on? Hmm, we all seem to still be in a handbasket, so nuf said there.
The peculiarities of Boretrose's weather rang true the 18 minutes I was home last weekend and it (in order) rained, sleeted, snowed and then all froze. Nice. Thank goodness for global climate change or we'd all burst into flames.
Hey, the Australian GP was last weekend and the Brawn GP team (nee Honda with a Merc lump in the back) smoked em. Hee, hee, rotsa ruck you slant eyed devils. You freakin blew it!!!! (ok, despite the obvious anti oriental err asian reference you'd have to be a F1 fruitcake (like moi) to truly understand what the heck I'm on about - hey take the dive)
So anywho, maybe, just maybe this season will be worth something.
On a lighter note, I'm wondering when Kimi and Felipe will do a 1, 2 with their Chrysler Dino's. Just another thought. Ha, somebody stop me!
Hey, on a more revealing note, I did make some really grand sour dough bread last weekend. Ok I'm gay, but one has to have some obsessions.
Hey speaking of gay, what up with Seattle taking back Wiffie (Jr.)?
And speaking of obsessions, Manny is back with the Dodgers. I'm down with that (and I'm trippin).
So before I make anymore out of body trans socio statements I'm gone.....
YHS
Well if this is Tuesday, then this must be Orlando. The present mission impossible has me US trekking.
Funny how the happiest place on earth also happens to have the crappiest airport.
Trying to get through security is a joke. You'd of thunk that after having practiced for the last 40 years since Walt died they'd have this down by now. I guess not. I wonder if Mickey gets "walked right through"? That rat bastard.
I'm not sure if all of the chaos is because of all of kids (it looks like a Mormon convention put on by some Catholics) or all of the foreigners (Que?) or the ever present dazed old people (where am I?), but MCO is one screwed up mess. The worst I've ever been through. And while they are at it, maybe they could buy an air conditioner worth a darn (damn). After all this is Central Florida. Just a suggestion.
As a side note, on my last trip outta LAX (I think it was Monday) somebody said Usher (the singer?) was on the plane in 1st class. Even if I knew who he was, I guess I wouldn't have recognized him as he would have just looked like another (careful here) black Angelino to me. I think I need to maybe watch BET more (ever) to get up to speed on who's who in Hip(dip) Hop. Do I sound really white (ie old) or what?
What else is going on? Hmm, we all seem to still be in a handbasket, so nuf said there.
The peculiarities of Boretrose's weather rang true the 18 minutes I was home last weekend and it (in order) rained, sleeted, snowed and then all froze. Nice. Thank goodness for global climate change or we'd all burst into flames.
Hey, the Australian GP was last weekend and the Brawn GP team (nee Honda with a Merc lump in the back) smoked em. Hee, hee, rotsa ruck you slant eyed devils. You freakin blew it!!!! (ok, despite the obvious anti oriental err asian reference you'd have to be a F1 fruitcake (like moi) to truly understand what the heck I'm on about - hey take the dive)
So anywho, maybe, just maybe this season will be worth something.
On a lighter note, I'm wondering when Kimi and Felipe will do a 1, 2 with their Chrysler Dino's. Just another thought. Ha, somebody stop me!
Hey, on a more revealing note, I did make some really grand sour dough bread last weekend. Ok I'm gay, but one has to have some obsessions.
Hey speaking of gay, what up with Seattle taking back Wiffie (Jr.)?
And speaking of obsessions, Manny is back with the Dodgers. I'm down with that (and I'm trippin).
So before I make anymore out of body trans socio statements I'm gone.....
YHS
Monday, March 23, 2009
Where Have All of the Small Mute Asian Women Gone?
Dear Bloginistas,
It's Sunday evening and after spending 15 minutes or so in Boretrose this weekend, its back to usual and I'm here cooling it at MLI.
Nothing too spectacular happening. I had to drive the truck up today as Her Hotness didn't want to invest the 5 hours up and back to drive me. Its 5 hours with her driving but only 4 hours (or less) with me driving the 210 miles roundtrip (do the math for the average miles per hour). Luckily, there is nothing too solid to hit except cornfields in the summer and in the winter, its just mud, dirt and the occasional pig (note subtle Iowa reference).
Hey speaking of racing, the Oz GP is next week, so I will have a new (abeit a really cool one) distraction (not counting Her Hotness) to fixate on.
Somehow, saner heads prevailed and the F1 reqs this year while being all sweeping, still manage to keep the racing "real" and may actually shake up the order some. And the costs have been drastically cut. The days of $200 mil/yr team budgets are past and a mere $100mil per year dosh may still do the trick. Nice to see the circus will still be able to just scrimp by.
Special note to self: (woop, woop !!!!Travel Advisory!!!!)
Never, ever sit in seat 2B again on any NWA commuter flight.
For some reason NWA has designated seat 2A as the Shamu seat and they only allow people (sic) with a BMI of 40 or more to sit there. So the poor schmoe (ie me) who gets to sit next to the flying Hippopotamus gets: (in order):
1) Smushed
2) Sweated on
3) A body hair massage
4) (And if it’s feeding time) Mistaken for a baloney sandwich and gnawed on.
NWA thinks of the smallest details and being the ever perfect host, even has Seat 2A already prepped with a 6 foot long jumbo seatbelt lest Andre the Giant feel self conscious and have to ask embarrassingly for a seatbelt extension.
Least we forget that its always all about me, why do I also always seem to have sit next to (at least when they are not fat that is, and why can't I ever just sit next to a small Asian woman with good bathing habits, who can't speak English or better yet can't speak at all? - err sorry I digress) people with some kind of major body tick or Saint Vitus Dance (? - just google it).
Since I suffer from a mild OCD (Old Coot and Dopey - with a special nod to Doc and Sneezy) having to watch someone spaz or worse for the whole flight just drives me nuts (ier).
Thank God I'm perfect.....
While I'm at it, how come the dippoop (I cleaned this up so Her Hotness wouldn't faint) who uses his laptop in the seat next to me thinks its aok that every time he hits the "shift" key he can just jab his elbow into my ribs?
Deep breath. There. I think I'm done. I do feel better.
Wow, I actually made it through this whole Piece de Resistance without once mentioning the horse faced sleeveless wonders' jerkass husband. (For a change)
I must be seeing the light.
Here's hoping.
YHS
It's Sunday evening and after spending 15 minutes or so in Boretrose this weekend, its back to usual and I'm here cooling it at MLI.
Nothing too spectacular happening. I had to drive the truck up today as Her Hotness didn't want to invest the 5 hours up and back to drive me. Its 5 hours with her driving but only 4 hours (or less) with me driving the 210 miles roundtrip (do the math for the average miles per hour). Luckily, there is nothing too solid to hit except cornfields in the summer and in the winter, its just mud, dirt and the occasional pig (note subtle Iowa reference).
Hey speaking of racing, the Oz GP is next week, so I will have a new (abeit a really cool one) distraction (not counting Her Hotness) to fixate on.
Somehow, saner heads prevailed and the F1 reqs this year while being all sweeping, still manage to keep the racing "real" and may actually shake up the order some. And the costs have been drastically cut. The days of $200 mil/yr team budgets are past and a mere $100mil per year dosh may still do the trick. Nice to see the circus will still be able to just scrimp by.
Special note to self: (woop, woop !!!!Travel Advisory!!!!)
Never, ever sit in seat 2B again on any NWA commuter flight.
For some reason NWA has designated seat 2A as the Shamu seat and they only allow people (sic) with a BMI of 40 or more to sit there. So the poor schmoe (ie me) who gets to sit next to the flying Hippopotamus gets: (in order):
1) Smushed
2) Sweated on
3) A body hair massage
4) (And if it’s feeding time) Mistaken for a baloney sandwich and gnawed on.
NWA thinks of the smallest details and being the ever perfect host, even has Seat 2A already prepped with a 6 foot long jumbo seatbelt lest Andre the Giant feel self conscious and have to ask embarrassingly for a seatbelt extension.
Least we forget that its always all about me, why do I also always seem to have sit next to (at least when they are not fat that is, and why can't I ever just sit next to a small Asian woman with good bathing habits, who can't speak English or better yet can't speak at all? - err sorry I digress) people with some kind of major body tick or Saint Vitus Dance (? - just google it).
Since I suffer from a mild OCD (Old Coot and Dopey - with a special nod to Doc and Sneezy) having to watch someone spaz or worse for the whole flight just drives me nuts (ier).
Thank God I'm perfect.....
While I'm at it, how come the dippoop (I cleaned this up so Her Hotness wouldn't faint) who uses his laptop in the seat next to me thinks its aok that every time he hits the "shift" key he can just jab his elbow into my ribs?
Deep breath. There. I think I'm done. I do feel better.
Wow, I actually made it through this whole Piece de Resistance without once mentioning the horse faced sleeveless wonders' jerkass husband. (For a change)
I must be seeing the light.
Here's hoping.
YHS
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The Intergalactic Mr. Met
Dear Bloginistas,
Hey it's been awhile since my last communiqué hasn't it? Well things are still just peachy here on planet Wes. I've decided to now claim that I'm my own planet after being so inspired by some hippie fruitcake mystic who just died per the New York Times.
Hey what the heck if this loon can claim such, who am I not to think that I'm any less sane?
So now I'm intergalactic - sweet!
Um, now to more earthly matters. Oh yeah I had a birthday since we last smoozed. I'm not actually getting any older, I'm just falling apart at a faster rate.
Since I'm taking such great care of myself, at this pace I should last for about another 5 minutes or so.
What else is happening? Um, I've been in Detroit a couple of times. And believe it or not the Detroit area actually is as depressing as Chamber of Commerce would have you believe. Nuf said.
My new mission impossible has me back in Metro NYC and somehow Long Island makes EWR and it's environs seem almost quaint by comparison. "Hey Guido (or fill in your preferred kamakasee inspired wild ass driver country's male name here), do you really think that zooming up and sitting on my bumper is going to make me somehow hurdle the line of traffic ahead of me? Hey, "key fa ah wah" (wild hand gestures) to you too buddy! (you punk). ....There, I feel much better now.
What else? Hans and Bell. (the dynamic canine duo) are still cooling it and enjoying the pending spring. Witness the numerous winter mummified animal carcii left on our front porch. Let's eat.
We finally and unfortunately had to have cut down (this would have been sure death if I tried this) the 45 year old pine tree out front. Real sad but the last 2 years' ice storms have left it almost totally limbless on it's south (?) side.
Her Hotness (pant) as always, is still storin food awaitin the global (now intergalactic) meltdown. Since Barky has his foot to the floor and is ridin our economic bumper (so to speak), it ought to be no time at all before I can buy a loaf of bread with a wheelbarrow full of Deutschmarks. Since I'm a known idiot, even I, Your Humble Servant (YHS), is scared at BO's Machiavellian (uh, what?) approach to all of this.
Not that I'm doubting that Hopey McChangie's approach has not worked elsewhere (ie France) just that I'm not sure I have enough bullets to ride it all out "night of the living dead" style, as the roaming hordes attack the Casa du Her Hotness. Just a thought.
Hey, speaking of guns, since da Bomba is such an advocate of the 2nd amendment (with muy grande red line edits of course), I'm now a certified gun nut.
Using the old adage, I better go get em, while the gettin is good, I now own a shotgun, 2 rifles, a 22 cal revolver, a 38 special revolver and a 44 magnum revolver. Plus a pile of ammo. All of this within the last year. And primarily because DB (da Bomba) is continuing to delivering us all in a hand basket.
As a side note, the 44 mag is really really cool. It has all the things a 15 year old could ever want. It makes a huge sonic kaboom noise when fired and it pretty much explodes/destroys anything it hits. (Geez, I'm even smiling as I write this). Of course, because of the HUGE kick that this hand cannon has, it takes both hands (or more) to even just hold onto it (more smiles) and actually hitting anything your aiming at is all relative (an in-law maybe?). But what the heck, you even get 6 chances before you have to reload.
Of course, I'm thinking I'll have to have all of these armaments buried somewhere out back sometime soon, as presumably Barry's Americorp will be here any day now to collect them. The future seems so bright I have to wear shades.
On a happier note, JFK (the aeroport du joir) is a whole lot nicer then EWR and LGA put together. Cept it appears to be the United Nations preferred port of escape also. Seems I appear to be the only one in line without some kind of really cool head adornment (my orange Mets cap not withstanding). To make do, I wonder if I can get an orange towel around here somewhere and just slap a sticker of Mr. Met on it? Just an another thought.
More random thoughts: Does anyone else get real bad gas from flying or is it just me? Somehow this isn't covered in the Stewardperson take off/landing debrief nor the flight card conveniently located in my seat back.
Anywho, I think that's it for now. And with an equal nod to Rudolph the Red Nosed Gas Cramp and happy interplanetary flying, see ya.
YHS
Hey it's been awhile since my last communiqué hasn't it? Well things are still just peachy here on planet Wes. I've decided to now claim that I'm my own planet after being so inspired by some hippie fruitcake mystic who just died per the New York Times.
Hey what the heck if this loon can claim such, who am I not to think that I'm any less sane?
So now I'm intergalactic - sweet!
Um, now to more earthly matters. Oh yeah I had a birthday since we last smoozed. I'm not actually getting any older, I'm just falling apart at a faster rate.
Since I'm taking such great care of myself, at this pace I should last for about another 5 minutes or so.
What else is happening? Um, I've been in Detroit a couple of times. And believe it or not the Detroit area actually is as depressing as Chamber of Commerce would have you believe. Nuf said.
My new mission impossible has me back in Metro NYC and somehow Long Island makes EWR and it's environs seem almost quaint by comparison. "Hey Guido (or fill in your preferred kamakasee inspired wild ass driver country's male name here), do you really think that zooming up and sitting on my bumper is going to make me somehow hurdle the line of traffic ahead of me? Hey, "key fa ah wah" (wild hand gestures) to you too buddy! (you punk). ....There, I feel much better now.
What else? Hans and Bell. (the dynamic canine duo) are still cooling it and enjoying the pending spring. Witness the numerous winter mummified animal carcii left on our front porch. Let's eat.
We finally and unfortunately had to have cut down (this would have been sure death if I tried this) the 45 year old pine tree out front. Real sad but the last 2 years' ice storms have left it almost totally limbless on it's south (?) side.
Her Hotness (pant) as always, is still storin food awaitin the global (now intergalactic) meltdown. Since Barky has his foot to the floor and is ridin our economic bumper (so to speak), it ought to be no time at all before I can buy a loaf of bread with a wheelbarrow full of Deutschmarks. Since I'm a known idiot, even I, Your Humble Servant (YHS), is scared at BO's Machiavellian (uh, what?) approach to all of this.
Not that I'm doubting that Hopey McChangie's approach has not worked elsewhere (ie France) just that I'm not sure I have enough bullets to ride it all out "night of the living dead" style, as the roaming hordes attack the Casa du Her Hotness. Just a thought.
Hey, speaking of guns, since da Bomba is such an advocate of the 2nd amendment (with muy grande red line edits of course), I'm now a certified gun nut.
Using the old adage, I better go get em, while the gettin is good, I now own a shotgun, 2 rifles, a 22 cal revolver, a 38 special revolver and a 44 magnum revolver. Plus a pile of ammo. All of this within the last year. And primarily because DB (da Bomba) is continuing to delivering us all in a hand basket.
As a side note, the 44 mag is really really cool. It has all the things a 15 year old could ever want. It makes a huge sonic kaboom noise when fired and it pretty much explodes/destroys anything it hits. (Geez, I'm even smiling as I write this). Of course, because of the HUGE kick that this hand cannon has, it takes both hands (or more) to even just hold onto it (more smiles) and actually hitting anything your aiming at is all relative (an in-law maybe?). But what the heck, you even get 6 chances before you have to reload.
Of course, I'm thinking I'll have to have all of these armaments buried somewhere out back sometime soon, as presumably Barry's Americorp will be here any day now to collect them. The future seems so bright I have to wear shades.
On a happier note, JFK (the aeroport du joir) is a whole lot nicer then EWR and LGA put together. Cept it appears to be the United Nations preferred port of escape also. Seems I appear to be the only one in line without some kind of really cool head adornment (my orange Mets cap not withstanding). To make do, I wonder if I can get an orange towel around here somewhere and just slap a sticker of Mr. Met on it? Just an another thought.
More random thoughts: Does anyone else get real bad gas from flying or is it just me? Somehow this isn't covered in the Stewardperson take off/landing debrief nor the flight card conveniently located in my seat back.
Anywho, I think that's it for now. And with an equal nod to Rudolph the Red Nosed Gas Cramp and happy interplanetary flying, see ya.
YHS
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Now for Some Real Sophistication
Dear Bloginistas,
I've heard some complaints recently that my blog is getting a wee bit too sophisticated for it's own good. Not being unmoved by your feedback and wanting to dial it back a notch, please enjoy the following:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRn5-LQCg2s
Helpful Hint: To be fully "uplifted" you have to watch until the very end.
Epicakilly,
YHS
I've heard some complaints recently that my blog is getting a wee bit too sophisticated for it's own good. Not being unmoved by your feedback and wanting to dial it back a notch, please enjoy the following:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRn5-LQCg2s
Helpful Hint: To be fully "uplifted" you have to watch until the very end.
Epicakilly,
YHS
Monday, January 26, 2009
LAX Dreamin
Dear Bloginistas,
Flying into Los Angeles, bringing in a couple of keys. Don't check my bags if you please Mister Customs Maaann... Good grief I'm singing a 60's Arlo Guthrie song!
Why the delirium? Because my new mission impossible (abet in a supporting role) is in Burbank CA. So now I get to fly to a whole new mega city (abet with palm trees) and do what I do best to earn the dosh that keeps me in diet Vault and tangerine orange juice, and, oh yeah, a place to keep the frig, plus heat.
LAXers seem about as muttley a bunch as EWRers except with a tan and a bit of the 'tude. No doubt brought on by the superiority they feel from having to pay for living in a $1.5 million shotgun house and getting to inch along in their daily 90 minute three mile commute. If it were me, I'd try to milk it for all it was worth too.
I guess with all the perks of living in Iowa (pigs, corn, no airports, no paved roads, no shopping, Slipknot(?), pigs and corn) I've been tainted.
Hey speaking of refrigerators, this winter has been just sweet. I never realized that at minus 12 degrees F even I, rather than go outside (in sympathy with the dogs Hans and Bell), would just as soon crap on the living room rug in protest.
Since I'm flying again on Sundays one of my rituals is to read the Sunday New York Times.
Even though it is a commie bastard left wing piece of crap(note: reoccuring theme), I do find the writing uplifting.
For example, in this week’s NYT Magazine was an interesting waste of ink article on an experiment by some kind of female sociologist who took a group of straight men, straight women, gay men and gay women and showed them films of baboons having sex (honest) to see what would happen.
Since this was the literary equivalent of a traffic accident (and it had the word sex in it) I had to keep reading on. Well, (pant, pant) to everyone's surprise, after getting them all wired up with electrodes in places best left to your imagination, the straight men and women all felt "sick", while the other "gender" to no ones surprise..., well actually this is where I felt sick and stopped reading.
For only 5 bucks you can't beat this kind of reading enjoyment.
The only thing that could top this little tidbit would be if this "project" was another federally funded executive order penned by Barky.
Hey, why I'm speaking of flying, why is it that the moron sitting in front of you (in steerage/last class err coach) always thinks it is aok to put his seat back in your face? Retardo must think that the 2 inches of space he's shoehorned into doesn't apply to the poor sap(i.e. me) behind him.
Luckily, revenge is sweet. I conveniently turn my air nozzle full blast at his head all the while rhythmically tapping my knee into the back of El Reclino's seat. To top off his continued flying comfort, I also wrinkle my NY Times by his head every 15 seconds or so. Who says its 5 bucks wasted? This takes commitment, but for the 3 hour and 51 minute flight, I'm up for it.
With some feeling still left in my legs, and still feeling the love, and with a little good karma (dude), maybe I'll see some "stars" like Micky Dolenz while I'm out here. Here's hoping and changing (leg position).
YHS
Flying into Los Angeles, bringing in a couple of keys. Don't check my bags if you please Mister Customs Maaann... Good grief I'm singing a 60's Arlo Guthrie song!
Why the delirium? Because my new mission impossible (abet in a supporting role) is in Burbank CA. So now I get to fly to a whole new mega city (abet with palm trees) and do what I do best to earn the dosh that keeps me in diet Vault and tangerine orange juice, and, oh yeah, a place to keep the frig, plus heat.
LAXers seem about as muttley a bunch as EWRers except with a tan and a bit of the 'tude. No doubt brought on by the superiority they feel from having to pay for living in a $1.5 million shotgun house and getting to inch along in their daily 90 minute three mile commute. If it were me, I'd try to milk it for all it was worth too.
I guess with all the perks of living in Iowa (pigs, corn, no airports, no paved roads, no shopping, Slipknot(?), pigs and corn) I've been tainted.
Hey speaking of refrigerators, this winter has been just sweet. I never realized that at minus 12 degrees F even I, rather than go outside (in sympathy with the dogs Hans and Bell), would just as soon crap on the living room rug in protest.
Since I'm flying again on Sundays one of my rituals is to read the Sunday New York Times.
Even though it is a commie bastard left wing piece of crap(note: reoccuring theme), I do find the writing uplifting.
For example, in this week’s NYT Magazine was an interesting waste of ink article on an experiment by some kind of female sociologist who took a group of straight men, straight women, gay men and gay women and showed them films of baboons having sex (honest) to see what would happen.
Since this was the literary equivalent of a traffic accident (and it had the word sex in it) I had to keep reading on. Well, (pant, pant) to everyone's surprise, after getting them all wired up with electrodes in places best left to your imagination, the straight men and women all felt "sick", while the other "gender" to no ones surprise..., well actually this is where I felt sick and stopped reading.
For only 5 bucks you can't beat this kind of reading enjoyment.
The only thing that could top this little tidbit would be if this "project" was another federally funded executive order penned by Barky.
Hey, why I'm speaking of flying, why is it that the moron sitting in front of you (in steerage/last class err coach) always thinks it is aok to put his seat back in your face? Retardo must think that the 2 inches of space he's shoehorned into doesn't apply to the poor sap(i.e. me) behind him.
Luckily, revenge is sweet. I conveniently turn my air nozzle full blast at his head all the while rhythmically tapping my knee into the back of El Reclino's seat. To top off his continued flying comfort, I also wrinkle my NY Times by his head every 15 seconds or so. Who says its 5 bucks wasted? This takes commitment, but for the 3 hour and 51 minute flight, I'm up for it.
With some feeling still left in my legs, and still feeling the love, and with a little good karma (dude), maybe I'll see some "stars" like Micky Dolenz while I'm out here. Here's hoping and changing (leg position).
YHS
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wal-Mart Bingo
Dear Bloginistas,
I didn't write this, but thought it was pretty funny. Remember that you can always buy happiness at Wal-Mart.
YHS
(Click on the below to enlarge)
I didn't write this, but thought it was pretty funny. Remember that you can always buy happiness at Wal-Mart.
YHS
(Click on the below to enlarge)
Friday, January 2, 2009
Amish PopTarts
Dear Bloginistas,
I'm sorry that I've been away for awhile. I've pretty much been hanging out with Her Hotness and servicing her every request. Accordingly and continuing on her "frugal food storage kick" I've managed to visit every embarrassingly cheapo retail food establishment in the tri-state area.
I’m always afraid to make eye contact with anyone shopping at these places lest I be recognized. Of course, anyone else shopping at these dumps also would have to be in as desperate as, err frugal a state as you. This embarrassment can best be equated to that of your Bishop catching you reading "Cosmo" in the supermarket check out line. (BTW, what exactly is your "V-jayjay" anyways?)
The creme de la creme of these discount food establishments is the Amish "Hilltop Grocery" in Plymouth IL (Where? Who knows? The Aussie voiced Karen on the GPS couldn’t find it either).
What do you normally think of when you think of an Amish business? Some quaint setting, or some fine old world craftsmanship? Ha. Not a chance here. We are talking Depression era ambiance. Let's see, hmm, the panache of shopping here can best be ranked (pun) in this order:
1) ALDI's
2) A Dumpster
3) This place (Hilltop Grocery)
Where to begin describing its charm (sic)?....
Well first off there is no electricity (nor heat), so you only get to see what you are buying if you had the forethought of bringing a book of matches or shopping on an extremely sunny day (which there ain’t none in Nov/Dec) since standing under one of their 4 "skylights" (ie holes in the roof) provides the only light in the whole place.
Secondly, the food is so cheap because it all is past its expiration. Somehow the Amish evidently get to fly under the radar of the health board (and common sense) and can get away with this, possibly on religious grounds. I guess since they all still live in the 1530's, the term "best if sold by Nov 22, 1997" isn’t really relevant.
Note: the lack of visibility may actually be a virtue, for the multi year old food doesn’t exactly still have much “curb appeal” either, Go figure.
While the prospect of buying a 3 pack of two year old expired granola bars can make Her Hotness's wick light up, the sheer weirdness of it all has YHS kinda raising an eyebrow and thinking "I'm still employed, right? So why in the heck am I shopping here?”
To add to the tinge of self doubt is the sight of my other "shoplifters" (nod to Gerry). These other patrons all seem to drive clapped out/gutted out green 1981 Ford Country Squire station wagons held together with baling wire packed to the brim with snot noised kids that all say "Eyuk" in unison every time they pick up a package of 1999 (let’s party like it’s) expired poptarts. Good grief Toto why am I here?
Let’s see, what else has been going on this X-mas time? Well, sugar plums have been dancing around in my head (sort of), and my annual "go out and buy what I really want for X-mas" shopping spree seems to have bolstered my self esteem for a wee bit helping to negate the above Amish delirium.
I managed to sneak past Her Hotness this year a Garmin GPS (sweet), and a 12 gauge shotgun (pre Obama vintage). So all is well in whoville for the moment (fleeting).
What else is going on? Hmm, Herr Mosley (sic) this off-season is trying his best to ruin my beloved F1 by turning it into Formula Super Vee with everyone running a “standardized” engine (whatever that is), but hope springs eternal that reason will still prevail.
Also on the F1 front, since Herr Ecclestone has cancelled the Canadian GP, to go along with the Indy GP as being a fond past memory, now for the 1st time since 1959 there will be no F1 race held in North America.
With all of the collective wisdom of the Federation International de L’Automobile, the closest I can now come to attending a Grand Prix is Sao Paulo Brazil. (nice)
Not that going to a place in another hemisphere full of “less tanned” Mexicans wouldn’t be a treat, but I’m not so sure this is what I signed up for 40 years ago when I first went to Watkins Glen.
That’s it for now. Obrigado, over and out.
YHS
I'm sorry that I've been away for awhile. I've pretty much been hanging out with Her Hotness and servicing her every request. Accordingly and continuing on her "frugal food storage kick" I've managed to visit every embarrassingly cheapo retail food establishment in the tri-state area.
I’m always afraid to make eye contact with anyone shopping at these places lest I be recognized. Of course, anyone else shopping at these dumps also would have to be in as desperate as, err frugal a state as you. This embarrassment can best be equated to that of your Bishop catching you reading "Cosmo" in the supermarket check out line. (BTW, what exactly is your "V-jayjay" anyways?)
The creme de la creme of these discount food establishments is the Amish "Hilltop Grocery" in Plymouth IL (Where? Who knows? The Aussie voiced Karen on the GPS couldn’t find it either).
What do you normally think of when you think of an Amish business? Some quaint setting, or some fine old world craftsmanship? Ha. Not a chance here. We are talking Depression era ambiance. Let's see, hmm, the panache of shopping here can best be ranked (pun) in this order:
1) ALDI's
2) A Dumpster
3) This place (Hilltop Grocery)
Where to begin describing its charm (sic)?....
Well first off there is no electricity (nor heat), so you only get to see what you are buying if you had the forethought of bringing a book of matches or shopping on an extremely sunny day (which there ain’t none in Nov/Dec) since standing under one of their 4 "skylights" (ie holes in the roof) provides the only light in the whole place.
Secondly, the food is so cheap because it all is past its expiration. Somehow the Amish evidently get to fly under the radar of the health board (and common sense) and can get away with this, possibly on religious grounds. I guess since they all still live in the 1530's, the term "best if sold by Nov 22, 1997" isn’t really relevant.
Note: the lack of visibility may actually be a virtue, for the multi year old food doesn’t exactly still have much “curb appeal” either, Go figure.
While the prospect of buying a 3 pack of two year old expired granola bars can make Her Hotness's wick light up, the sheer weirdness of it all has YHS kinda raising an eyebrow and thinking "I'm still employed, right? So why in the heck am I shopping here?”
To add to the tinge of self doubt is the sight of my other "shoplifters" (nod to Gerry). These other patrons all seem to drive clapped out/gutted out green 1981 Ford Country Squire station wagons held together with baling wire packed to the brim with snot noised kids that all say "Eyuk" in unison every time they pick up a package of 1999 (let’s party like it’s) expired poptarts. Good grief Toto why am I here?
Let’s see, what else has been going on this X-mas time? Well, sugar plums have been dancing around in my head (sort of), and my annual "go out and buy what I really want for X-mas" shopping spree seems to have bolstered my self esteem for a wee bit helping to negate the above Amish delirium.
I managed to sneak past Her Hotness this year a Garmin GPS (sweet), and a 12 gauge shotgun (pre Obama vintage). So all is well in whoville for the moment (fleeting).
What else is going on? Hmm, Herr Mosley (sic) this off-season is trying his best to ruin my beloved F1 by turning it into Formula Super Vee with everyone running a “standardized” engine (whatever that is), but hope springs eternal that reason will still prevail.
Also on the F1 front, since Herr Ecclestone has cancelled the Canadian GP, to go along with the Indy GP as being a fond past memory, now for the 1st time since 1959 there will be no F1 race held in North America.
With all of the collective wisdom of the Federation International de L’Automobile, the closest I can now come to attending a Grand Prix is Sao Paulo Brazil. (nice)
Not that going to a place in another hemisphere full of “less tanned” Mexicans wouldn’t be a treat, but I’m not so sure this is what I signed up for 40 years ago when I first went to Watkins Glen.
That’s it for now. Obrigado, over and out.
YHS
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
