You are Spider-Man
|You are intelligent, witty, |
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.
Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz
|You are intelligent, witty, |
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.
Someone suggested I try painting from a photo. And I had the photo of the Pedernales River, so I thought I would try that scene. I want to, eventually, paint more Texas type scenes.
I can tell you that I kinda like this. I hate the background. To dark, and too splotchy. I like the midground. I screwed up the sky. There should have been more clouds, but once the paint starts flyin' . . . And, I think I have figured out how to do bluebonnets. Unfortunately it was too late for this one.
So here's the original photo and my interpretation of it.
Someone has also suggested that I open a tent somewhere to sell these, to which I respond, "Can I learn to paint first?"
Boys in the band ordered boat drinks
Visitors scored on the home rink
Everything seems to be wrong
Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap air fare
I gotta to fly to saint somewhere
I'm close to bodily harm
Twenty degrees and the hockey games on
Nobody cares they are way too far gone
Screaming boat drinks, something to keep em all warm
This morning, I shot six holes in my freezer
I think I got cabin fever
Somebody sound the alarm
I'd like to go where the pace of life's slow
Could you beam me somewhere, Mr. Scott?
Any ol' place here on earth or in space
You pick the century and Ill pick the spot
Oh I know, (I know)
I should be leaving this climate
I got a verse but can't rhyme it
I gotta go where its warm
Waitress I need two more boat drinks
Then I'm heading south fore my dream shrinks
I gotta go where its warm (I gotta go where its warm)
I gotta go where its warm (I gotta go where its warm)
I gotta go where its warm!
I gotta go where there ain't any snow
Where there ain't any blow
cause my fin sinks so low
I gotta go where its warm
Yes, I know this is boring. I keep painting the same things! This one is a little different.
So, I watched Bob Ross on DVD and thought I'd try this painting again.
My previous attempt of this scene (Crap #4) was not as successful as I'd hoped. On #4, the background was okay (I could improve on the sky but the mountain rocked), the midground was kinda ehhh! (Nature does not work in even numbers. I learned that in ikebana class at Nagasaki Weslyan Junior College (now University) in 1984. (And, yes, I was pretty good at Japanese flower arranging, thank you very much. It was my favorite culture class. Thank God, Allah, Vishnu or The Flying Spaghetti Monster I didn't try to pick that up again! Fresh flowers every week? Oh! the humanity! And the $$$.....) The foreground, well, doesn't exist.
So in #8, I tried to create a foreground. I should have made the trees on the right bigger, and those on the left smaller. I should have made the land in the foreground extend more to the left. And, I should have had more highlights. But Rodney, my brother, was watching, and imitating Bob Ross, and I spent most of my time trying to paint and looking over my shoulder saying, "You want to paint this m*th*rf*ck*r!?" (Never paint with an audience. It never works. The forked path? That was Mom's idea. It's supposed to be a rock...)
I had a definite idea in mind when I started this painting. Unfortunately, by the time I finished, I had forgotten what it was. And as I finished, I thought, "This sucks." But as it has been sitting around drying, it's growing on me. What do you think?
Monday was such a nice day, I thought I'd smear some paint onto a canvas.
I spent the morning watching the last series of "The Joy of Painting" by Bob Ross and picked up some tips. I'm still going to have to take a class, though. There are things I just can't seem to get.
My aunt, Ann Holt, is a breast cancer survivor. She is participating in a five mile walk to raise money for breast cancer research. My other Aunt Ann is also a breast cancer survivor. My late Aunt Sue survived breast cancer to die of bone cancer earlier this year. My late Aunt Johnnie passed away from cancer last year. That's why I have made a donation to support Aunt Ann in her five-mile walk. If you aren't contributing to someone you love, please consider supporting Ann P Holt. Thanks.
Here's today's painting. I tried to do it like the Hill Country Scene I posted the other day, but I missed my target. My vision of the painting slipped away.
Actually, I am somewhat happy with this one. The sky is lighter, but I am still having problems with clouds. The rolling hills turned out okay, and so did the tree on the left. The less said about the tree on the right, the better! The water is okay, but the grass land needs work.
I might try again tomorrow, but I need to master one thing at a time. I might try to do a sky with a cloud and a mountain. I bought some canvas boards for that purpose.
This is the spot that today I would have revealed my latest painting. But it's been raining since Saturday. Maybe and I can squeeze it in tomorrow, when it's supposed to clear.
I had the oddest dream last night. I dreamt that my best friend, Ben Affleck, had come to town after losing out on the James Bond role. We hung out at the local ten story hotel called Corner Cottage, and watched them start filming before I left to go home. Um, Dr. Freud. . . ?
I am primarily a cartoonist, and have always been fascinated by the process of creating a comic book or comic strip. Here's a link to the official "For Better Or For Worse" site, and their process for creating each day's strip. Interesting reading.
My first painting! I call it "Crap No. 1". Don't get me wrong, I don't think it's hideous. I think it's my first one. The second one will be better. And the third one, and the fourth one. Even though I call this "Crap No. 1," I'm still proud of it."
At about 10 am, the flight attendants began picking up our
drinks only a few minutes after giving them to us. The flight had been routine
until the co-pilot came on and announced that because of something bad happening
"back east," our flight would be diverted to Birmingham, Alabama.
I pulled out a set of jet flight maps and started looking
at where Birmingham was in relationship to home. (In retrospect, that may
not have been the smartest move I could have made. The gentleman sitting next
to me probably reported a fat man with a beard checking maps in-flight.)
The passengers spent the next half hour or so sitting straight
up, wondering what the hell had happened back east. Until we got to the gate,
we were pretty much in the dark. One of the flight attendants boarded the
plane and told us what happened. She told us to deplane, that we would not
be leaving today.
On the way to baggage claim, a security guard was waving
people off the concourse and into the terminal like a traffic cop. A guy walking
beside me veered into a bar that had a TV on. I started to follow, but she
waved me on, "Let's go! Everyone into the terminal!" As I passed the bar,
I could see several dozen people crowded around a TV mounted on the wall,
transfixed by the flickering images.
It was like a campfire. This one glowing box, transfixed
everyone in the bar, shining light onto their faces, and the shadows on their
backs blending into one wide, dark mass.
I turned on my cell phone, and was surprised to find a voice
mail from the office wondering where I was and if I was okay. I tried to call
and see what the heck was going on, but all I could get was a message that
said the Sprint network is busy and that I should try again later.
I got both my bags off the carousel, sat down and tried to
figure out what I needed to do. I managed to call Donn and got his answering
machine and told him where I was. (Until Friday, I was never able to get through
to Donn again.) I called home and talked to Dad. I tried calling Steve's cell
phone, but the line was busy. I called Rodney and Jeanne. I called the office.
I called Mom at work. I called everyone I could think of. Everyone said, "Just
hang tight." So I went off to see the folks at Southwest Airlines.
The gal behind the Southwest counter looked frazzled. All
she could say is, "I don't know," when I asked what the odds were I would
be leaving the next day. She gave me a voucher for a Best Western Suites,
and told me that the pick-up point was across from the baggage claim.
Baggage claim was at the far end of the terminal from the
Southwest counter. I had navigated through a throng of addled and confused
passengers, and a very visible, and very nervous, police presence to get to
here. That included toting the photon torpedo case full of golf clubs up the
So, back down the escalator to wait for the van to the motel.
Meanwhile I passed the rental car folks. They looked like a grocery store
at 5 pm on the day before Thanksgiving, and, as a sure sign of the coming
Apocalypse, everyone had a cell phone in their ear.
I found the van that took me to the Best Western hotel. A
harried, blonde haired guy with authentic Southern accent drove the 15 of
us dazed travelers to the hotel. Shortly after we got onto the Interstate,
my cell phone rang. Gary's voice said, "Oh, man! I am glad your home!"
"No, I'm in Birmingham."
After we chatted a moment, we pulled into the hotel. Hotel?
This place looked like an apartment complex. I was seventh or so in line,
and they checked me in. The clerk pulled out a map, and said, "Walk out the
front door, go left, walk to the top of the hill and turn right. You're on
the third floor. Next!"
I gestured dramatically to the photon torpedo tube, and my
waistline, hoping to convince the guy that the cost of my imminent coronary
was worth, at least, a second floor room. No dice. He was already telling
a couple of ladies from Houston (we had chatted on the van) they were on the
"Bar?" I whispered to a frantically rushing hotel employee
who was headed for the front desk. Our driver had already waved goodbye and
said, "I'm going back to the airport!"
The young lady stopped in midstride. Apparently concerned
with my torpedo tup to waistline display earlier, she asked, "Sir?"
"Where's the bar?"
She brightened quickly, stood straight up and pointed. "Over
It was a four foot bar you would find in someone's basement,
complete with two beer taps and three bottles of booze on a small cabinet
with a sink behind it.
"It opens at 6 pm, sir!" She said, and then turned and went
behind the front desk to help check everyone in. It was 11 am. At this point,
liquor was not an option.
By the time I lugged everything to the top of the hill and
up three flights of stairs, everything I was wearing was damp with sweat,
and I sounded like Darth Vader. ("*huff* Luke. *huff* I am your father. *huff*")
I opened the door to my room and found an apartment only slightly smaller
than my last apartment in Austin. I left the photon torpedo tube by the door,
flopped onto the couch and watched TV, huffing and sweating.
I tried calling Steve again, but his phone was busy. I called
Ann Turner and talked to her. I called Mary Jo and talked to her. I called
everyone whose number was on my cell phone.
Here I am, fifteen hundred freakin' miles from home. I am
calling people I haven't talked to in a while, just to hear a familiar voice.
Just to be reassured that I am not alone. Just to know, that if the end of
the world were to come, everyone would know where I was.
I kept trying Steve's cell phone, and got no answer. Then
I remembered that I had programmed his new home number. So I called. Steve
told me that they had evacuated downtown Baltimore near their World Trade
Center. Then Steve paused and said, "They're on the fucking ground, man. The
towers. They're on the fucking ground."
You want a title for this piece? That sounds like a good
one to me.
I paced the hotel/apartment, calling people, using my minutes.
(Travel lesson #1: Get a cell phone with free nationwide long distance. Take
it with you everywhere you go, and don't forget to take a desktop charger
and a car charger.) Then I got thirsty.
I mentioned that I had to walk uphill to my room. I should
also mention that the hotel was about ? of the way up a big hill. Just at
the bottom was little convenience store. God blessed me that day, my friends.
He did not strand me in a dry county. I walked to the bottom of the hill,
and perused the beer selection.
There were a couple of considerations. It was about noon.
I had about $40 bucks left. And the hotel's restaurant opened about the same
time as the bar. All I had had to eat since I woke up at Steve's apartment
was a couple of bags of Southwest Airlines peanuts. I bought a 12-pack of
Coors and bag of chips. Then I walked back uphill to the hotel. Across the
street was a moderately sized strip mall, with a Wal-Mart.
Now a quote from Bill Bryson:
"? With a pack you walk at a tilt, hunched and pressed forward,
eyes to the ground. You trudge; it is all you can do. Without, you are liberated.
You walk erect. ? You amble. Or at least you do for four blocks. Then you
come to a mad junction at Burger King and discover that the new six-lane road
to Kmart is long, straight, very busy, and entirely without facilities for
pedestrians-no sidewalks, no pedestrian crossings, no central refuges, no
buttons to push for a walk signal at lively intersections."
Sound familiar? Urban sprawl at work. In another book, The
Lost Continent, he describes trying to walk across the driveways of several
fast food restaurants without the benefit of sidewalks. Think about your local
Wal-Mart. How pedestrian friendly is it? See what I mean? I walked uphill,
in the roadside grass almost waist high, until I got back to the office of
the hotel. If you are familiar with apartment complexes, it was kind of like
the complex office.
Back in the room, after another hour or so of Darth Vader
impressions (well, it was a STEEP hill!), I sat down and started drinking
my beer, eating chips and watching the talking heads theorize about Osama
Bin Laden. Finally I found HBO.
I watched two movies. I still can't remember which movies
I watched. My eyes glazed over as I thought about where I was, what I needed
to do. But at least I didn't have to watch the towers fall again.
Finally, I took a shower. Hey! I'd been up and down that
freakin' hill six times. I could not stop sweating. I put on my emergency,
last ditch, set of clothes. (Travel tip#2: Always take one extra set of clothes.
I watched the news a bit more, and decided I was hungry.
I had been told that the restaurant opened at 6 pm. It was a bit after 8,
so I headed downhill to the restaurant.
Six people sat in chairs infront of the bar watching the
news. I went into the restaurant, and found that it was a dining room with
a buffet table at one end. I checked out everything and realized I was too
late. I went back to my room, swearing.
I decided to go to the strip mall to get some fast food.
What strip mall genius only puts one fast food place in a strip mall? All
I could find was a Subway. So I bought a big sandwich (from a clerk who told
me that in Oklahoma gas was $10 a gallon. True, as it turned out, but I poo=pooed
him in my mind.), and headed back to my room. I watched the last bit of "The
Xmen" as I ate my sandwich and went to bed.
For those of you keeping score, yes, I did drink all the
On our way back from South Carolina, we stopped in Bryan to visit Dad's Aunt Mallie. It was a nice visit, and for the first time I realized that Mallie was only 10 years older than Dad. Anyway, as we were leaving, Mallie gave us a painting she had done a few years earlier.
A couple of years ago, Mom's Aunt Virginia passed away and Mom brought home a painting she had done. Now I want to learn to paint. Damn!
I have always been a fan of Bob Ross. A decade ago, he was a fixture on the local PBS station, right before the cooking shows. We'd always watch him start with a blank canvas and in 30 minutes have a completed painting. Now that's my kind of painting. Should fit in with my attention deficent problem.
So, I'm going to teach myself to paint. Just what I need. Another hobby.
I bought a new radio for my van. The way my finances are going, it could be another year, at least, before I can afford to think about a car. So, I need to replace the old one that doesn't work.
Back in the late 80s, I used to install radios at the drop of a hat. And equalizers. And speakers.
Then I stopped buying radios.
For the last three days I have been working on the preperatory steps. One night I assembled the adapter for my van. One night, I connected the wiring adapter. Tonight, I removed the old radio, and an old add-on thing that hasn't worked in a while. While trying to remove it, I decided to cut the wires. I cut all three wires at the same time and made what Adam Savage of the MythBusters calls the Magic Blue Smoke. However, whenever you make the Magic Blue Smoke, something electronic stops working. Oops.
Well, the radio works, but IT DOESN'T FIT!
Time to walk away. I'll mess with again in the morning.
I think I mentioned I played golf with Steve and John (Staci's husband) last Tuesday. Meadow's Farms is, by far, my favorite course. Unfornately, it is about 1500 miles from my house.
Here's a pretty a picture of their new clubhouse, with John in the foreground.
As much as I like to simply post things the family would be interested in on this blog, I would like to make a little money for writing it. PayPerPost, http://www.payperpost.com, offers bloggers a chance to earn a little cash while blogging. All you have to do is write a post on a particular topic, and they will pay you. I couldn't resist so I signed up, and gave it a try.
We're gonna visit Donn in Virginia and Sean in South Carolina in a couple of weeks. Dad has already announced that he's not going to drive, so Mom and I get to do it all. And, I have already decided I will do as much as I can. But there have to be a few purchases first.
The first purchase was a Sirius satellite radio. If I'm gonna be cooped up in the car with 'em that long, I get my own radio! I've already picked out the classic rock stations I like. I have also marked the comedy channels. Dad, who had informed me he was taking his CD player and, apparently, his weight in CDs, even said, as I installed the antenna in the van and tested the radio, he would like to be able to hear the radio.
The second purchase has to be new fronts, as Jimmy Davis (my RJR coworker) used to say. I need new glasses. The ones I have are almost 20 years old. While the distance viewing is okay, the up close vision has gone. That's what pisses me off the most. I love to read, and now I have to hold books two feet from my eyes.
I hate getting old.
I'm also trying to think about what I'll need for the trip. Sometimes, I think like Batman going into town: "I'll need the fingerprint kit, the duster, and the night vision goggles." Other times, I think like Indiana Jones: "I got the whip, I got the gun, I got a bag to put sand in. . ."
So, i'm reviewing the One Bag website, trying to pare down my bag to the minimum. I'll be working on that for the next week or so.
After a months long disruption, I have started working on Chasing the Sun again. Not that anyone cares, but I have drawn over 250 pages! I still have that many to go, however, so don't expect to see the ending anytime soon.
Anyway, this drawing is page 11 of chapter 11, or page 251. This scene was one of the first scenes that I wrote for the story. Lydia has learned that Ray has had sex with a couple of girls. She has a crush on him, and is trying to seduce him.
You might want to read the story. If you want. I don't want to push.
Normally, I'm pretty laid back. I don't like to kill insects unless they're bothering me. If there's a spider web in a spot I don't normally travel through, I leave it alone. A spider has to eat, too, y'know.
Sunday afternoon, I was getting a beer from the cooler on the back porch. I was whistlin', having a great time. I get even with the cooler when I feel a stabbing pain on the back of my neck. I hastily retreat to a safe distance and look around A pair of yellow jackets had started a nest right in front of my beer cooler.
Right in front of my beer cooler!
Had they been down at the end of the house, I wouldn't have bothered them. But no living thing comes between me and my beer cooler! I go back in the house to look for spray. We had moved all the spray out to the storage room at the back of the house. Right under the wasp nest. I did find a can of roach spray. Since I needed a beer, it would have to do.
Back outside, I peeked around the corner and spotted my prey. I raised the can, and started spraying. A fine mist covered the nest and after a couple of seconds, the wasps took off. I knocked the nest down and squished it. After retrieving my beer, I went back inside to put ice on the sting.
Sorry, wasps. But you were in the way.
Dad and I played some golf with one of our friends, Larry, yesterday. Let me tell you, it was hot! Larry played 9 holes, Dad and I tried for 18, but on the 11th hole we got behind a fivesome and I started feeling queasy. So while they putted out, We stopped at a pisser. I splashed water on my face, but that didn't help. We spotted a sixsome in front of the fivesome and said "Fuck it."
Out of the course, the air was still, and heat just oozed out of the ground. When we crossed Main street, we noticed a nice breeze pushing the trees around. And when we got home, it was nice a cool in the front yard. We should have played there.
Marla had stopped by on her way back to Abilene, so we had a nice visit. Other than that, it was a quiet Memorial Day.
Steve sent a picture of his bouncing baby boy, but neglected to provide a name. The boy is due in October, and, of course, everyone is excited for them. I am eage rto see if big, bad, bruiser Steve (We all know he's a big softie, but he will kick your ass!) will be a strict Daddy or a or forgiving Daddy.
Mom, Dad, and I are planning a trip to the East Coast to visit Steve's family, Dad's brother Donn (who live in Fredericksburg, VA); and Sean, Joanne and Cael in Beaufort, SC. I'm looking forward to it. I like driving trips, and I enjoy visiting the VA Holts.
Aunt Sue finally gave up, and passed away on Saturday. The funeral is on Tuesday. Mom asked that we all go up to Abilene on Monday for the visitation. So, as soon as I get a hair cut on Monday morning, we're off to the funeral home to sit there until they close.
Cael Thomas Holt was born in Beaufort, South Carolina, on Sunday, April 23. Mom and baby are doing fine. Sean has promised, and I mean promised, that pictures are on the way. He sent them to his mom, who will be sending them to us, as soon as she gets our email addresses.
We had 3 inches of rain the other day. It all fell in about an hour. So I rushed home from work to make sure there wasn't water in the house, and when I went into the back yard, I found that the dry creek bed in our back yard was no longer dry.
The day that everyone in our family has been avoiding talking about is almost here. My mom's sister Sue is in the hospital and the prospects are grim. I haven't really written about it here, because she often visited the site. I'm working on a much longer piece, but I definitely don't want to post it until after. . . after . . . well, you know.
We had to take some things to Rodney and Jeanne on Sunday, so Rodney cooked Jambalaya. I'm not exactly sure how the furniture for food trade was negotiated, but it worked for me. After lunch we went down to the lake to look around. The ducks just knew we had food. And Nickel, Rodney and Jeanne's dog, just knew the ducks were his food, but he was to afraid of the water to swim out after them.
One person requested it!
Okay, okay. It wasn't a request. It was a wistful comment written in sympathy for a previous post. but never let it be said I don respond to wistful comments!
Today I present the newest addition to the JeffreyHolt.com store:
One of the downsides of joining traffic exchanges is that every once in a while, you get an asshole that wants everyone to think his penis is larger than it really is. Since they don't have the intellect to argue, they name call. Now I don't have a problem with someone who doesn't like what I say, and explains why. I'll happily post contrary opinions in the comments. But name calling? Pardon my french, but, Fuck that! Hello, comment moderation! This way, these fucktards can't promote their blog just by posting.
By the way, commenter, I agree that the use of "rant" in a blog title is trite, and will be taking steps to correct that. Thanks for that, at least.
We heard from Sean yesterday. Like all of us, he's swamped at work, and he's taking college classes. So he's busy from 6 am to 9 pm. We finally persuaded him to get Joann a phone, so we could at least touch base with her once in a while. Speaking of Joanne, the baby is due May 1, and will be named Cael Thomas. As soon as Joanne has recovered from the birth, they will bring the baby down for a visit.
I didn't get the job at the hospital. So I guess the plan is to ask my boss for a letter of recommendation that I can attach to all my resumes. Then she'll ask, "Why are looking?" and I can say "INSURANCE!" Maybe I'll get insurance that way.
I have a job interview today. At 10 am I have to be at the hospital. I applied for a job at the admissions desk. It will pay about $3/hour less than I make at my current job but having the insurance will be worth it. I might even be able to afford to visit a doctor once in a while.
Wish me luck!
I took this photo at 7:30 am on Wednesday at our local Wallyworld. A string of RVs lined the front of the Wal-Mart parking lot from one end to the other. I could only get these few in the frame.
There is an RV park in the next block. But Wal-Mart doesn't charge them.
We heard from Sean, finally. Seems he's trying to get as many classes in as possible to get his degree before the baby is born. We made him promise to get Joanne a phone so we can, at least, talk to her.
I finally broke down and bought golf shoes. Since that went so well, I bought a pair of sneakers because I'm tired of my sandals. The right shoes is a bit tight, but I'm glad I bought them. Or, I will be once they're broken in. I haven't had a really comfortable pair of shoes in a while.
Other than that, things are creaking along here. No one, especially me, has been in the hospital. And no one is sick.
On Monday, I drove to San Antonio to get a pair of golf shoes. Tired of everyone asking why I wasn't wearing a pair when I broke my leg, I decided to use my IRS refund. I went to Edwin Watts Golf on I-10, just off Wurzbach. A chipper woman named Michelle helped me pick out a pair of shoes. Unfortunately, that particular store didn't have the correct size.
I paid for the shoes, and Michelle said she would go to the other store and pick up a pair and ship them to me, at no additional charge, of course. I got them yesterday. I should have tried them on at the other store. Just a little tight, I expect that once broken in, they'll be okay. Now, when I play golf, I won't snap an akle bone. Instead I'll turn and cause a twisting break up my entire leg!
I drew this hottie and scanned it into my computer. I colored it in Photoshop.
(As the artist, I have to wonder how this chick broke her hip. Her right leg is turned too far to the right for the bones to be intact! I suck at anatomy.)
I'll try to draw something less sexist next time.
Today, I downloaded Ubuntu 5.10 live demonstration ISO and burned it to a disk. When I rebooted my computer, I was using Linux! In fact, I'm using Linux to make this post. Cool!
To be honest, it looks a lot like Windows. It acts a lot like Windows. But it sure is cheaper than Windows! Ubuntu is completely free, and comes with Firefox, Thunderbird, and Open Office. There are all sorts of applications that make Ubuntu a viable alternative to Windows.
While I'm not quite ready to switch, I am going to explore the world of Linux. However, so far, I'm impressed. Now all I need is a dedicated Linux box. . .
On 1/21, Brandon competed in a weightlifting competition in Llano. (It's not pronounced "Yeah-no" despite how it's spelled.) Dad went to watch. He took my camera. Yeah, I could post a picture of Brandon doing a successful squat, or bench press. But where's the fun in that?
That's his girlfriend. I'm still waiting on a name. . .
That little sentence has got all the single women in American in fear right now. I can hear them now: "Eeew!"
Relax. It's more like another reason to watch my favorite show, Mythbusters.
Kari Byron is an artist and mechanic. That is impressive!
Hotness is, of course, a bonus.
Apparently, the greatest problem facing mankind these days isn't fundamentalism, as we had all thought, but instead is cooking spaghetti.
A couple of years ago there was the pasta pot. A pot with a perforated lid, it allowed the cook to dump the water without losing the pasta. Now, it's the Pasta Express, a plastic cylinder that you put the spaghetti and boiling water. Let the thing sit on your counter until the pasta is cooked, then pour the water our the perforations on the top.
Hasn't anyone ever heard of a colander?
Last November 5, a young man of Scottish descent was barred from entering a Kansas City school dance because he was wearing a kilt. (No word if he was a real Scot - look left.) Scottish groups learned about it, and got outraged! Mounting a letter writing campaign that would make American Family Association get a woody, they got the school district to write an apology letter.
Rejoice, fellow kilt wearers! Justice has been served!
Sean called today to tell us that Joanne was going to have a boy. He's due in June. Naturally, Sean is scheduled to deploy to Japan in July. He's understandably not thrilled with that.
While he was here at Christmas, he said that when his enlistment is up, he will enlist in the Army and try to get back to Texas. I warned him that if he joined the Army, he'd probably wind up at Fort Hood. And everyone at Fort Hood winds up in Iraq. I told him he would be better off in the Marines. At least they send him to Japan.
I told the boss that he would be heading back to Japan. She said I should go visit him.
Lessee: credit card minimums are doubling, thanks to our Congresscritters, so we can pay off our debts faster. Did they limit what credit card companies could charge in interest? Oh, no! That might cost a business some $$$. Since the citizens aren't businesses, they can lose the $$$.
Gas prices increase at every change in the wind. If a holiday is approaching, Exxon posts a billion in profits.
With the increase in gas prices, groceries have gone up.
In August, I broke my leg. At the end of the year, my bill was almost $20,000. And guess who wants their money!
Guess what didn't go up.
That's right. My fucking paycheck. Every year we get a $0.25 raise. (I know. You're salivating at all that extra cash.) I've been with the company for 10 years. That means I make $2.50 more per hour than I did when I started. Whoopie!
Tell you what, boss. You pay for the ticket, eh?