How it came to pass: Random bob was accosted by a dildo

First off,
Sit down; it will be a long journey to the punch line on this one, folks.



It all started when I got home last Friday…
The lil’ woman goes to work late in the afternoon on Fridays, and I work late in the morning and get home about 2 hours after she’s vacated my house. It turns out that this is just enough time for the puppies – Chase & Hunter – to boldly kill a rug. This was not the first time, either. And not even the first time for this rug. So, what’s a good dog father to do?

I beat them with it (don’t worry, it was a light beating at best). Made lots of angry noises. Felt better, let them think about what they had done, and then carried on with my night, which may or may not have involved internet pron & a nap. Definitely some PB&J for dinner though. Home alone? No leftovers? Oh yeah, PB&J – it’s the other other white meat.



Seriously, who does she think she’s hiding it from?
It came to pass that The Girl eventually had to fess up that she does indeed own a dildo. It came up in conversation one day not too long ago, and apparently the way I brought it up insinuated that I knew something she didn’t think I knew: namely, that she indeed had a vibrator (note: vibrator & dildo will be used interchangeably – deal with it). The thing was, I didn’t necessarily know, I was just being silly and stated it as fact while making another point. She felt called-out and owned up to it, though. But I didn’t actually know.


Which is entirely false. I did know. Not firsthand mind you, but who do we think we’re fooling exactly? A young horny woman without a dildo is like a man with internet access that’s never seen porn. Neither actually exist in the real world. So yeah, I knew. But I didn’t. You get me, right? I hadn’t actually seen it or looked for it, but I knew enough to know it existed and also enough to know that if I had wanted to see it, about where I’d probably find it, knowing her.

Anyway, what I didn’t know was that she actually has/had two of them. That was news to me. That came as quite a shock when one night I reached over to grab it (for her! For her!), and wouldn’t you know it, but: a) I did know exactly where it was, and b) she had two of them. I might have already said that, but yeah it was that shocking at the time.

She hid it in the top drawer of her nightstand. Really. In a silk baggy that could only have one use: to hide a vibrator or twelve. Seriously: who did she think she was fooling here?



Funny thing happened when I got home on Saturday
As it turned out, Saturday’s scheduling was pretty much an exact copy of Friday’s. There was an hour give or take, but basically I left for work mid-morning and she left for work late afternoon. I returned early evening, let’s say a full two hours after she had vacated my house this time around. I’ll give you a whopping ONE guess as to what happened.

The dogs – same two puppies, of course – had decided that the rug was CLEARLY that good. So good. So VERY good, that they needed to pull it back outside and continue tearing it a new one. Or I guess maybe on the second day it’s an “old one,” but whatever it is I don’t really want to touch it I think.

I was pissed, as you can imagine.

I mean, they do it, get reprimanded for it, and decide to try again not 24 hours later? Are they trying out for the definition of insanity or something? Because what they got was pretty much in line with what you might expect considering previous experience: I beat them. Except this time I was not just mad, I was f*cking livid. How dare they do this; how dare they test my authority on the matter. Dammit, I say the rug stays unchewed, it better damned-well STAY UNCHEWED.

It was a pretty savage beating on the one hand. I was mad, they were in trouble, and dammit I was going to put it to them. But it was pretty tame on the other. The problem for me was that I was trying to beat them with said chewing device. This wasn’t really an adequate beating utensil to say the least. It was like… I’m having trouble coming up with an analogy, other than to say that it was like trying to beat a pair of dogs with some loose yarn, if you can imagine. It doesn’t work too effectively – you can’t get any force behind loose yarn, believe that or not.

But damned if I didn’t try my hardest. After all, they had chewed the rug two days in a row, the 2nd time after having been beaten for it the 1st time! So I did, I did try pretty dang hard to beat them into compliance. The yarn wasn’t doing much to help me, so I had to put forth all of the beating effort on my own.

At which point, my right shoulder slipped out of joint.

This had never happened to me before. I was both in shock, and in pain. Holy Hell, now I was pissed at the dogs, and a little pissed at my shoulder for having given up the good fight over some yarn. But dammit the lesson needed lessoning, so I switched arms.

At which point, my left shoulder slipped out of joint.

I’d already mentioned that this had never happened before, right? Imagine my surprise then, when not only one of my shoulders, but TWO – BOTH – of my shoulders decided to slip out of joint on the same day, maybe 15 seconds apart.



Another funny thing happened when I got home on Tuesday night…
I don’t know exactly what is up with them right now, but Chase & Hunter seem to go through phases. Sometimes we’ll go weeks without anything wrong. They get lots of praise & love, we’re all happy, we try to reinforce that great things happen to good dogs, right?

But sometimes we go through equal and opposite phases, too. And I know they’re just puppies still, and labrador puppies at that. Miles was his most obnoxious & trying during about this same stage of his life. Same stuff almost; definitely the same thickheadedness, that’s for certain. I know they’ll grow out of it, I know that they’ll figure it out and just get over it eventually, we just need to be vigilant until then.

Knowing that doesn’t make it much easier though, when they’re going through stages that are quite the opposite of “good.” This last week has been one of those. They have been hellions on paws.

I had Wednesday & Thursday off, and initially we had planned a one-or-two-day camping trip down south of here. Those hopes were dashed Tuesday night however, when I got home to find the puppies out back (I usually enter from the back, through the garage). All looked clear enough at first, and I was about to lay generous praise on them for having been so good. About that time, I tried to open the back door to find that it was locked, with them outside it. This is not good. This means, that The Girl got home before I did, they had done something bad, and she locked them outside.

It dawned on me that when I had walked into the backyard, a certain barrier we’ve had up to keep them off the grass while it’s reseeding was down. I hadn’t thought much of it since all seemed OK at first glance. But now they were under intense suspicion. It was dark, and the lil’ woman was in the shower, so I poked inside real fast and grabbed a flashlight.

Normally when they dig, they pick a spot and make a quick hole out of it. It’s not pretty, it destroys the little seedling grass hairs that I spent so much time nurturing, but it’s at the least contained to a specific area. What the decided to do on Tuesday night was not this. The decided that rather than pick a spot and have a minute or two of fun, that they should instead divide their time between no less than less than four holes.

So pretty much our entire backyard. They’re powerful,excellent diggers, you understand.

And of course I did what any good dog father would do: I went completely apesh!it and beat the living tar out of them. This was made a little difficult by the fact that my shoulders were still sore from the whole “slipping out of joint” thing the few nights before. But I managed, despite a little pain. I also managed to scare the living crap out of them, and also remain more or less composed myself.

I didn’t want another shoulder episode, obviously.

In addition to being scared sh!tless and being thrown into and then reprimanded inside of their own holes, I decided that instead of sleeping in their warm, fluffy beds that we paid $20-each for, inside the house, behind the couch, they would instead stay the night outside.

I should note here that although we paid $20 for them to have nice, comfy beds to lay in, we’re pretty sure they just sleep on the couch instead. But I digress.

This didn’t do wonders for my sleeping pattern that evening. Not only did they decide to whine here & there, but there was the added confusion for our other two dogs. Not that they can’t manage sleeping on their own inside, all comfy in their beds, but locking the other two out meant, conversely, that they were locked in. Which makes potty breaks that much harder for everyone.

I managed to wake up each time Miles headed for the door to open it. I tried to steer him to the front door, out to the front lawn to do his business, but as you may or may not know (you know now though), Miles is a creature of habit and routine; going out front in the middle of the night is not the routine. And he knows it, and he’ll let you know that he’s picked up on it. I simply got stared at like I was supposed to maybe throw a bone or something, or maybe recite my newly-acquired 10 commandments or something. It’s a cute look he gives, but at oh-dark-thirty, and then again at half-passed oh-dark-thirty, I really just wanted to see some dog tinkle and go to bed.

So yeah, I had to let him out back to do his ‘business,’ whilst keeping the bad dogs out, and letting them know I was still upset and they still were not coming inside. This process – repeated 3-4 times throughout the course of the night, at Miles’ leisure – was a surefire way to get me to cancel any sort of camping & hiking expedition for the next morning.

It also did nothing good for the overall well-being of my shoulders.



Random bob gets laid!
Calm down, it’s easy work for me. Remember: horny girl; dildo. Getting laid for me requires as little as a grunt, and at most giving directions to where the party place indeed is.

But still, it was an achievement, if only because my shoulders were still so painful from the nights before that I was not sure I could do anything but lay still and grunt. Which probably would have been enough, but dammit I wanted to try to make an effort!

And so, it was that a worthy effort was made.

Unfortunately, this also wasn’t necessarily the best thing for my shoulders. At the time it seemed fine, but afterwards as we lay there, my shoulders were feeling the pinch. And as I had just performed a good service, I demanded that The Girl give my shoulders a rub (note: by “demanded,” I mean to imply that I pouted and nagged until she caved in). Turns out, her wrists were sore. She’s only a girl so I never bothered to inquire as to why, but as it was impacting my shoulder rub, I had to ask if she was alright to continue, and what I could do to make it easier on her to perform this basic, requisite duty. Perhaps if she didn’t have to use her fingers to apply so much pressure, she suggested.



And then...
Maybe if she used her vibrator to poke at my shoulder, she suggested. So she could have a good grip and put some force to it without hurting her wrist, you understand.

So, you see how this happened. I told you all of the previous stories so that this one would make a little more sense. I mean, I was in pain, and she said she needed it to complete the massage. I was almost an unwitting participant. The dogs, the woman – all conspired against me here. And now, I just feel violated & taken advantage of.

How did it feel? Like a dildo was poking my shoulder, that’s how. It didn’t do anything for me. Look, I was young, she was in college, we experimented, OK? But it’s not my thing. And I don’t think I’ll ever do it again.

Unless I can maybe find the tiger-striped vibrator featured above. Then I may reconsider the vibrator shoulder massage. Maybe.


NOTE:
If you are The Girl, or you are a family member of The Girl: The Girl would like me to inform you that in no way has she ever done the things I am accusing her of. She’s innocent, and as such has never even had a sexual thought in her life. The stories you read here are completely the figment of my imagination. She would like me to assure you that she doesn’t even know what a dildo is, and does not find any of this humorous in the least, except maybe a little bit, maybe. She furthermore would like that I inform you that she is indeed mortified that such a lie would be spread, and once again, asks that I assure you, fellow readers/family members of the The Girl, that no such event or device has been in her existence.

If you’re related to ME, then it was all her idea :-)

Random thoughts: Modern Paganism, & False Authority

Modern Paganism
We’re considered largely to be a country of Christ-loving, one-God Fearing, Christians (or the like). We’re not pagans, after all. Right? Right. Well, I think it’s wrong, actually.

I sometimes like to think about things from a distant perspective. Such as, what would future generations think of our current rituals, say in like 3,000 years. Sort of how we pull up artifacts of past generations and make judgements on them. I think they’d think us to be quite the odd pagans.

Easter. A BUNNY? That.. Lays eggs? Seriously? This is how we (well, YOU – I’m agnostic) honor the rebirth of Jesus? With a bunny that lays eggs?

Or how about we decorate an evergreen tree in December to honor his birth, which didn’t actually happen in December, in a land devoid of evergreens.

I rest my case. It’s a short case, yes I know. But still. It’s rested.



Billboard statements are wrong
As are Bumper Stickers. There’s something wrong with them – and by extension, talk radio & Talk TV – as a political tool. But especially billboards & bumper stickers.

Because they make a statement as fact. I do that all the time, but you’ll notice there’s comments you ca leave (that no one ever does). I do something that billboard statements & bumper stickers don’t allow: namely, conversation & debate. Maybe I say something you don’t fully understand or might disagree with at first, or even permanently. You have the chance to pipe up and debate the issue, and make a counterpoint.

Well, you could do this if you had a point to make against me. But let’s face it – I’m damned-near perfect in my points & presentation ;-)

The root issue is that without the ability for point-counterpoint, it more than makes a statement as fact, it does so with what is called “False Authority.” I’d like to say I discovered the fallacy or defined it. Alas, I did not. But if it hadn’t been elaborated before my time, I think I could have done it. I could have been the one.

Anyway. Next time you hear Rush or Bill, remember False Authority: Just because you yell loudest and drown out any counterpoints, doesn’t mean you’re right. Usually, quite the opposite.

Rush. Bill…

Shaving Adventures of the 'bob

Liking the Old-Style Double-Edged Razors
For X-mas last year I received something I had been asking for since the x-mas before: A double-Edged Safety Razor. I had read a lot about how they can really help to minimize skin irritation when used properly.

Seriously though: “used properly”? Who does that? We’re human. Let’s face it, we see a warning label that says “don’t use this product for that,” instantly we think “hey that’s a great idea, I should use this product for that.” Never say when used properly.

Anyway. The reasoning is that since you’re taking one good-quality blade across your skin instead of many cheap & inadequate blades with each stroke, your skin will not get as irritated as fast. Think about it: We’re talking about Gillette Fusions with 5 MOTHERF*CKING BLADES these days. 5. So for each swipe, 5 cheap razor edges pass by your already-irritable skin.

I can attest it works pretty much as described. It’s a nice close shave, and it never seems to grab and pull as bad as the new blades do. The only thing that really took me awhile to get right was the concept of “don’t push into your skin, let the weight of the razor do the work.” I get it now though, and yeah it works pretty well (though I imagine each person will have to tailor their style to their own face, as have I). There’s also the added benefit of cost: I can get a pack of 10 two-sided blades for about $6, and each one will last a week or so. Contrast this with today’s blades that run – in my experience, with a lowly two-blade Sensor, mind you – at least $8 for 4 blades, that only last two or three uses. And clog mercilessly.

So Far, I’m pretty sold.



Which blades to run
The only real problem I’m having now is deciding which blades I like. The set came with Some Merkur Platinum blades that I’d been using. Hell, I’m still on the original 10 blades I got, and it’s now more than 3 months later. Anyway, I started getting low and since I can’t find a local supplier, I figured I should order some replacement blades before I actually ran out. But what blades to try? Well thankfully a lot of places offer “sampler packs,” that have a collection of blades from different manufacturers. Everything I read says the Merkur’s I have are pretty top-notch, so I half-expected that when I got the sampler I ordered – from westcoastshaving.com – that I’d probably end up sticking with what I had. I mean, Bic? I’m going to like blades from Bic more? Or Dorco? Yeah. Sure. Dorco.

So: yes. And no.

I went about it a little scientifically, at least as much as you can with something so subjective. I did one half of my face with one blade, and the other with another blade. First up, it was tried & true Merkur Platinums versus “Bic.” And I was so surprised I had to do a three-day test to make sure, and even switched sides of my face for each blade to make sure I wasn’t imagining it: the Bic’s are better. Crap. Bic. They make crappy everything. You buy boats of Bic whatever because they’re cheap, not because they’re high-quality. Those’re the disposable pens & razors.

So, yeah. First off the bat, Cheap-ass Bic knocks off the venerable, “Made in Germany” Merkur Platinums. They’re the new kings to beat right now. I’ve still got a number of blades to try out though. I’m in the process of warming up the Dorcos, and I’ve got some Feather Hi-Stainless waiting in the wings – which I’ve heard good things about – as well as some Gillettes.

Basically, try them out. If you’re going the “DE” route, try them out. ALL of them. I did, it worked for me! I mean c’mon, who’d have guessed that anyone would willingly pick a Bic product over something that was made (...fabulously!) in Germany?

Not I, said the ‘bob.

Cleaning A Black MacBook, Redux

Once before I set out to write out how to clean a black MacBook. I stand by almost everything I wrote there, save for one issue.

I had taken issue with some other recommendations to use a “Magic Eraser” to clean an expensive piece of electronics. Well I have to admit that I have actually been using them to clean my own MacBook since shortly after I wrote that blog. I decided to eat some humble pie – by the way, not as good as Apple or Cherry – and actually research the “Magic” erasers.

It turns out there’s not much that’s “magic” about them. They’re essentially like a microfiber towel, but in foam form, and the europeans have been using them for years. In fact, before their cleaning properties were discovered, it was apparently used as a pipe & soundroom insulator. So, it’s kosher so long as the stuff your cleaning is relatively hard in nature. Mind where your minds are, boys. Ah nevermind, I’ll see you in the gutter later.

Anyway. Clean away, feel free to use a “Magic Eraser” on your black MacBook. In fact, they work really really well. No grease spots on the black cover or palm rests! But alas, don’t expect to get rid of the grease spots on the keys. Those don’t go away.

And for dog’s sake people, DON’T TRY TO USE IT ON THE SCREEN.

Really. Did I have to say it?

Random bob gets them digits

Yes, it’s true. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, too. I just walked right up, struck up some conversation, and then before we parted ways, I asked for his phone number. Oh yeah, by the way it’s a guy. I potentially made a boy-friend. We’ll see, it’s still possible that he gave me a fake number to ease the blow of rejection, but I’ll find out soon enough I suppose.

This is exciting for me! The ‘bob doesn’t have many friends at this point. I mean, I have friends, but most of them are either imaginary or anymore strictly across the internet via email – so perhaps they are still imaginary anyway – or are just not around much anymore. I’ve lived up here for two years, and with the possible exception of one gentleman I work with, I’ve not made much in the way of friends. My work schedule makes it a little difficult, and since I – GASP! – get along with my significant other, we spend a lot of our free time in our own company. So friends have been secondary in concern and also just plain hard to come by.

So. His name’s Maariooo, and he’s kinda cute! ;). OK OK, I kid. Sheesh.

I went up to talk to him because we instantly had a few things in common. We were both out off-roading along the beach. We were both driving Tacomas. We both had our dog(s) out running around as we did this. His dog? A black lab. With Balls™. And we’re both male of course, which is very important to The Girl, as she’s not much into having me have things in common with women – go figure. But what really caught my attention was I passed him along the way to the beach, and he was going a different direction. A few minutes later we’re crossing paths on the beach, and I was curious how he got there so fast. Turns out, he doesn’t know.

So he might be stalking me. Don’t worry; I’ll proceed with caution.

Pope proves Catholics like to get Medieval like it's 1499

I can’t believe this.


Well that’s not true, I totally can. When was the last time the Pope did anything of actual value? He’s like the Queen of England, except with a useless penis instead of a dried up… never mind. I think this blog has taken a turn for the worst, and perhaps a sudden left is needed to get us back on the road.

Anyway. C’mon. Condoms don’t work? Abstinence & fidelity are the only worthwhile tools? Where was this guy during the GOP caucus, huh?

Chalk this up as yet one more reason the ‘bob is anti-religion.

That and the picture you see with this blog. Which is it? Are you devine, or not? Yeah. Faith. You haz it. Or, apparently, not. Yeah, sure, whatever. That’s about how I feel about it too. Way to practice what you preach, fella. Nice hat, btw.

Insert your favorite fart joke here, while we’re at it.

Ahhhhh, SOCIALISM! Welcome! We've been waiting

Both parties are clamoring to regulate the levels of payment given to overpaid, underworked wealthy white boys who make a slaying for themselves by taking from those with little to give? We’re ALL upset that some ill-gotten gains are coming out of the taxpayers’ wallets and into the coffers of the undeserving? We BOTH want to tax the shit out of the undeservedly wealthy? Holy sh!t?

Hell, maybe this AIG thing is JUST what the Doctor ordered, then. I’m cool with that. Hang a few rich greedy bastards out to dry, and in the process get everyone actually piping up to regulate the greed and spread the rewards as evenly as they spread the backlash. I’m all for it.

Maybe they’ll finally put my long dreamed-about CEO pay restriction plan into action. I’d be really cool with that. Especially if I get credit for it :)

Obama Scolds AIG over Bonuses on behalf of you & me

From the New York Times, it appears that Obama is desperately trying to do what he can to at least appear to be scornful of AIG and there proposed bonus payments. Calling for the Treasury Department to do all it can to try and wrestle AIG to the ground and tie its arm behind its back, and tell it that it can’t legally pay out”bonuses” for running the business into failure.

Know what the accompanying picture reminds me of?

“No. NO! BAD AIG. BAAAD.”

New Photo Album Up, new movies as well

Lady Bird Johnson Trail
Late last week we took some time to go and visit a National Parks trail about 40 miles north of here, named Lady Bird Johnson Trailhead. We picked it out of all the rest in our handbook because it said it was dog-friendly. When we got there, we found out it was decidedly not, with “Absolutely no dogs, not even you, YES, this means YOU with your FOUR DOGS, bob” plastered all over the place.

We went anyway. I put up a few pictures that we took, but honestly, pictures don’t do it justice. Movies come closer, though. So after you head over to check out the picture album, mosey over to the movies and check out the movies of Lady Bird Johnson Trail over there.



Since I was there anyway,
I went ahead and updated the Family Album. I took a peek and noticed that the most recent pics of the new pups were almost 3 months old. Well, no longer! Now, they’re updated too.

As well as their OWN album. Which now I sort of regret having made, because I’m lazy and it’s duplication that seems needless now.

Oh well, eh? Enjoy anyhow.

AIG paying (un-) trained monkeys

Have you heard the other good news? AIG, which has so far received more than $170 BILLION of taxpayer dollars, has plans to pay out $165 million in bonuses to the very executives that got them to this dance. How sweet; how criminally sweet.

They’re trying to argue that the bonuses are contractually obligated, from signed contracts that originated in early 2008, before they completely melted to the core like a Hotwheel® over a flame. And of course, the ‘bob is highly upset over this. I even have a fitting analogy ready for it!

But before we get to the analogy, let’s just quickly dissect how they’re NOT legally obligated to pay these bonuses, as far as I’m concerned. Yeah I understand there’s a contract in place, but just for the hell of it, let’s go back in time a little. To around the time AIG was on the verge of becoming insolvent. Now let’s examine the situation. Some smart executives decide to play games with people’s money, and it backfires horribly. They do so bad a job, that they drive their company to ruin; AIG can no longer function under its own business plan. The Government has to give them $85 BILLION just to make it a few more months, at which time they need even more capital, and then more again to the tune of $170 BILLION total to date.

My main argument that these bonuses are not legal stem from that fact that most senses, AIG ceased to exist. Basically, we came in and picked them up out of the gutter for the sole purpose of keeping everyone else from suffering horrendous blows to their capital. At that point (or this one, take your pick), they stopped being AIG, and you can’t enforce a contract to a party that no longer exists. There’s still three letters arranged in a a particular order on the side of a building, but it’s not AIG in the old sense; it’s just a banner over the real company’s name: The United States Taxpayers Insurance Company.

And now here’s the analogy:

It’s like a little kid – we’ll call him Little Johnny – out with its parents at the zoo. he asks mommy & daddy if he can have a cookie when they get home, and mommy & daddy say yes. But then a few hours later, they’re looking at the bonobos and Little Johnny pulls out a pipe bomb he had stuffed in his pants and shoves it up some poor bonobo’s ass and blows it into a million, blood-drenched, furry pieces. Now this wasn’t just some bonobo off the street, it was a hard-working bonobo that was the breadwinner for a family of 4 and now that family will most likely be out on the street! Well then, after the parents have to deal with the cops over Lil’ Johnny’s actions, the the zoo staff, and have to agree to pay to keep the poor bonobo family from eating out of trash cans, when they get home Johnny asks for that cookie, and says “you promised, remember!”

Yeah f*cking right. You’re grounded for LIFE, you little sh!t. You’re lucky to be alive.

How’s that for an analogy? I mean, if you run a company out of existence, then I think that maybe you shouldn’t get a cookie.

Stop the Presses: Bristol Palin is Single

Did you? Did you hear the news?

Bristol Palin and her boyfriend broke up.

Dag. Can’t figure out why it wouldn’t have worked out between those two crazy kids! I was rooting for them. I was pulling. I really thought that they could make it in this big crazy world.

Never – NEVER, I say! – did I ever think, not even for one second, that their love-fest was staged. Not once. Not even twice. Who would think that, anyway?

What’s the world coming to when two crazy kids in love just can’t make it work? Aw, shucks.

Pillow Shopping: Why so hard?

I wouldn’t have thought it was so hard. But we’ve been through three different pillows at this point, and I think that these latest ones are going back as well. It looks like we’ll be sticking with our old pillows instead.

Which I find amusing. Because The Girl was very adamant that we get rid of them in favor of new ones, as the oldies-but-goodies are more like oldies-but-grossies, as far as she’s concerned. She’s partly right, of course. They’re probably older than she is (so, what? 2 days? BA-DA-BING!).

But they’re so damned comfortable!

She didn’t even know that until she tried a bunch of other pillows (at Bed Bath & Beyond’s expense). Goose Down, cotton fill, she even had an eye on one of those foam ones. All just too thick. And it seems that we can’t find pillows that are like ours anywhere: thinner, but don’t sink into nothingness, and slightly supple. They’re either overly-fluffy, or when you lay your head down they just disappear, and all the pillow ends up on both sides of your ears instead of under your head.

They’re ear muffs, basically.

And I can’t find any old-fashioned feather pillows, which is what I think we want. Booooh.

Toolbox Excitement

Not long ago now, I ordered and received a new toolbox from amazon. We had finally outgrown our old toolbox and were in desperate need of a new one.

No, that’s not quite accurate.

We had outgrown our toolbox about the day after we bought it. But it was cheap, it cost us like $15 at the time and we figured so long as we had a “box” to put our “tools” in, we’d be fine. This just wasn’t so, however. Because those of you who know me, know that I am sort of a freak about organization. Sort of a “neat freak” but without the feather duster & pen protector. The thing is, the old toolbox was really just that: a box for tools. It didn’t keep everything organized well – or at all – and thus finding what I needed for a particular job was an exercise in mental frustration.

(click for larger version)
We shopped around at Sears, because you know that old Craftsman brand? Well, the name still rings a bit. But at this point I can honestly say it’s just a name. For $20 more than the toolbox I ended up getting, they wanted to sell me one with drawers that felt about as sturdy & reliable as Britney Spears at a frat party. Oh yeah baby, it was a rock!

Anyway. The one I got was from Homak, and it has – get this – ball bearing drawers. For $20 less than Sears’ brand. And I like it quite a bit. I feel like a dork (and probably rightfully so), but I really have been excited to be able to get my stuff organized proper, and make sure there’s a place for everything and, subsequently, everything in its place. And with a little help from Jo-Ann’s, that’s now a reality.

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The final straw with the old toolbox was that the nifty little organization containers at the top broke and wouldn’t latch. So every time you opened the top, your “stuff” in the top would end up a big mess on the floor behind you, and commingled at that (so much for organization, eh?).


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I used those containers to store and separate screws & nails (and bears, oh my!), and also some miscellaneous do-hickeys – the technical term – that you accumulate that are just too odd to really belong to anything but will be immensely useful once you throw it away. We found some containers at Jo-Ann’s that had nice dividers & fit into the drawers about perfectly. And now, I think I’m far more organized than even I felt I’d be with a toolbox. The only thing left is to devise some dividers for the other drawers to keep the tools in place a little more securely.


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Actually, that’s not quite accurate.

I’ve already devised something that I think will work, I just need to get to ordering the few things I need to make it, and get to it. What’s the trick? Well, it’s about the same as the magic trick you see before you; how I get those scissors to defy gravity in the picture: Strong-as-hell magnets. I’m going to use some more of those, and glue/attach some dowels to the top of them. Stick them in the drawers where I want them, they ought to keep things well-divided and organized.

Yes, I’m a dork. I know I shouldn’t have a blog about a damned toolbox. I shouldn’t be excited about putting nuts & screws away neatly. But I am.

I’m OK with that.

Jimmy Fallon gets HIS OWN SHOW?!?! WTF?!!!!

Who THE F*CK gave Jimmy Fallon a godd*mned show? Who the f*ck did this?

F*ck you. F*ck you and DIE.

I hate – HATE – Jimmy Fallon. He’s... how best to say this... Not funny? Yeah, I think that’s it.

I understand they have some time slots to fill. But Jimmy? Really? What, was Ben Stein unavailable? What about Joaquin Phoenix?

Hell, I’d rather watch him sit around angry & confused as different people seem to be coming and sitting on his couch and he can’t figure out why. I’d rather watch this every night than watch Jimmy Fallon.

SO. As I was saying, F*CK YOU AND DIE.

What's wrong with Myspace & Facebook

Simply put, they’re not mine.

If I want to tell my friends what I’m up to, I have to go to their myspace page or facebook wall or whatever and say it. And then I have to say it again, for each of my friends.

And believe me, with all three of my friends, it gets tiring rather quick…!

I recently made a facebook account at the emailing of a long-lost coworker from years passed. But in dorking around with it for a few days, it’s like myspace but without the music it seems. Oooh, a wall… What the hell, am I supposed to update it all the time with useless junk? That’s what I do here. Plus I just think differently about it. I don’t want to share dumb little excerpts about the build-up to an event.

“Bob is really excited for the weekend”
“Bob is getting ready to go to work”
“Bob is chopping bodies up into small unidentifiable pieces”
“Bob can’t believe it’s not butter”

Eh, it’s just not my style. Rather, I’d prefer to tell a whole story. Yes it’s after the fact, but that’s when all the fun stuff happened, I’d rather share that with you than the boring prologue.

I figure, why bore you to death with the build-up to an event, when I can bore you to death with the details of the event, and add in a whole bunch of ancillary stuff that may or may not have even happened? Keep you guessing, you know? Did he REALLY get lectured by a homeless sex-change-monger?

Wouldn’t you like to know…

Smart Dogs

For the past two months or so we’ve been using a baby gate to contain the dogs inside of the kitchen (which has access to the backyard). Basically just keeping them from having full run of the house when we’re away.

We’d noticed that for awhile now when we get home, the gate is down. We figured they were probably rough-housing and pushed it off the door frame. No biggie, we moved it to the other side of the divide on the frame, and that would prevent it from being pushed out, right?

Well, yeah, actually. But it didn’t solve the overriding issue.

They still have full run of the house even with the gate on that side. Because, they’re smart. They’ve learned how to remove it from the door frame, regardless of position. If we put it outside, they push. If we put it inside, they pull.

We figured this out for sure last night. Because when The Girl got home last night, the dogs were out. This despite the fact that not only did she put the baby gate up, she placed an old, heavy nightstand in front of it.

They pushed both right out of the way. The smart little bastards.