Stumbling

Some of you may have seen the nifty toolbar called StumbleUpon, which matches up your interests with random pages that fit in that category. It's a good way to waste a few minutes (or hours). This was found using StumbleUpon, and was too good not to share.

Dear Mr. President:

Please find below my suggestion for fixing America 's economy.

Instead of giving billions of dollars to companies that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses, use the following plan.

You can call it the Patriotic Retirement Plan:

There are about 40 million people over 50 in the work force.

Pay them $1 million apiece severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:

1) They MUST retire. Forty million job openings - Unemployment fixed.

2) They MUST buy a new American CAR. Forty million cars ordered - Auto Industry fixed.

3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage - Housing Crisis fixed.

4) They MUST buy their own health insurance. - Health Plan for seniors just fixed!!!

It can't get any easier than that! If more money is needed, have all members of Congress and their constituents pay their taxes... If you think this would work, please tell everyone you know.

If not, please disregard. Then shoot yourself!!!! - 1 job opening

God Bless America.

Headache

You know how you sometimes get a headache that just throbs at one point in your skull? Usually, I get that. Right now, though, I am experiencing one constant, steady, unbroken pain, and it's not located in any one spot. My entire skull hurts.

This sucks.

QuickSilver

So, the past few weeks have been a blur. I bought one 1995 Chevy Blazer from my mechanic with the insurance check from the Mirage, and the second I brought her home, she started giving me problems.

Mighty Mechanic, who I bought her from, has been wonderful about helping me with the issues. Two days after I bought her, she stalled and wouldn't start. MM brought a flatbed trailer fifty someodd miles to pick her up and bring her back to his shop to work on her. The starter was bad.

Well, last weekend, she started acting up again and I called MM. He told me if it was alright with me, he'd like to take a week to shake her down thoroughly - this business of me constantly calling was costing both of us money. Him replacing parts and putting other jobs on the back burner, and me putting gas in the Blazer I have named QuickSilver to get to his shop. She has the 4.3 Vortec V6 under the hood, and Redneck Guitarist laughingly said it was big enough to be a V8. She's a powerful little pup.

Now, all these mechanical malfunctions have been very aggrevating. Truth be told, aggrevating is putting it lightly - the size of the inconvenience has left me near rabod with rage. Keep your distance, I bite.

Well, I called MM yesterday about picking her up. He told me she hadn't given him a single problem, the backstabbing little minx! He told me he wanted to take her out one more time, to pick up some parts, and if she still didn't buck him, then I would be free to pick her up.

Three hours later when I called, he told me she finally goofed, and majorly: she stalled in the middle of an intersection. And he asked me: whenever she did this, was my gas gauge around a quarter tank? Why, now that I think about it, yes, why?

Apparently the only problem she had was the gauge was broken. And my genius self did not realize that it was lying and telling me there was a quarter tank when in all honesty, it was empty because... When the tank is full, it works fine. But then you get down to the quarter mark, and she starts to act up with that needle, and next thing I know, I'm stalling and not wanting to start.

I feel like a royal idiot. I am catching a ride from Redhead's little sis, who lives a few blocks away from the shop, to pick her up. With a new, working gas gauge.

D'oh!

Uh, What?

So I was sucking my girlfriend's dick last night...

...

...I got nothing.

I thought I could wing it and pop something charming and witty, yet crude, off my hip, but I can't.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

I hate rainy days.

The grey skies above darken my apartment, causing the Wee Idjit to fuss. No amount of artificial lighting ever seems to brighten up this place, and both our eyes always seem to be straining and squinting.

The apartment we all live in is sized for one person - a college bachelor, ideally - and a couple can live comfortably here if they don't mind rubbing elbows a lot.

Throw in a toddler and subtract about a third of the floor space for drums, and it gets mighty cramped in here. Textbook young parents, I'm told. Money is always tight and there's not enough room. Hear about it in all the stories, right?

Usually, this is not a problem. Most days, I can play with Wee Idjit in the front yard (and draw the attention of every person going down the street - they want to stop and admire the adorable smile and bright red hair!), or if it's too hot, we can go over to a friend's house to play with other younguns, or to Adopted Gramma's house up the street, where there's lots of toys, space, and people to worship the little beastie I affectionately call "son".

Okay, now take the original equation, and subtract a major part of every day life: your vehicle. Suddenly, going anywhere becomes a lot more difficult. If the weather is poor (either too damn hot or water is falling from the sky), you can't walk somewhere with a stroller. If it's too far, or there are not smooth sidewalks, you are very discouraged before you ever walk out the front door.

So, there's no room for Wee Idjit to run around, making him even crankier, and he's so bored... It turns what is usually a very low-maintenance baby into more than a handful, with Epic Toddler Tantrums.

This makes me want to yank my hair out and scream from stress. And I don't handle stress well. By the time Redhead gets home from work, I am in roughly the same state as Wee Idjit. I rapidly dissolve into a mess in desperate need of a break.

I'll be glad when QuickSilver is back from the shop. She's not in for any real major work, just some fine tuning and tweaking - get all the bugs and kinks out, make her run smoother for a longer time. Again, at no cost. Mighty Mechanic is a good man, still feeling embarrassed for the Blazer giving me any problems.

Also, for my own comfort and amusement, as soon as she's back, Redneck Guitarist told me he'd put some of his extra speakers in the silvery beast. He's got a great system in his truck, and the ones he offered me were a previous set before the new upgraded system got installed.

Once she gets back and I'm working steadily, my money will get sunk into my SUV... No mechanic stuff, all cosmetic toys. The way I figure it, I spend more time around looking at the inside rather than the outside, so that is what I'll improve - speakers and stereo, dock for the iTouch, little comforts like that.

Sigh. So much to do, so little time.

RAGEHATE

You know, when you have a child, that means life as you know it is OVER. No longer will you get to stay up all night drinking and sleep til 3 PM the next day. No longer can you devote an entire afternoon to the pleasure of your choice, be it video games or fine tuning your drum kit. You now have responsibilities, obligations to put another soul before your own.

Then there's just plain common courtesy. When I ask you, as I'm crawling into bed, to put the leftovers from dinner in the fridge, so myself and Wee Idjit can eat them for lunch the next day, and you tell me you will... Imagine my surprise when I wake up the next morning to discover you didn't.

And no, putting them in the fridge after I call you on it does not make matters better. I'm not feeding meat that's been left out all night to myself, much less my toddler son. Thanks for being responsible, asshole.

Small Children

A text conversation between a friend and myself. We were discussing having a girls' night, and taking the Idjit along. The third friend has two little girls, ages two and three years, and my friend Ditzy relayed this little gem:

Ditzy: They're smart pistols. Just like Daniel. Only with blonde hair.
Me: And miniature vaginas.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, these are the things that go through my mind on a daily basis.