Roosters and Whoopie Cushions

Oh shit I have a dentist appointment today!!  That's what was going through my mind at 9am today.  What time is it?  Is that little business card doohickey still in the pocket of my jacket?  Did I wear this jacket last time?  That was 6 months ago hell no I didn't even wear a jacket in August.  Hmmm better call Mama and get the scoop.  This is a good reason why I'm married.  My teeth would fall out if I wasn't.
OK 4pm appt. time.  I'll leave work at 3:15, run home and brush my teeth (you only bring your toothbrush to work when you remember duhhhh) feed the dogs and then race to the dentist.  Typical.  I should cancel.  Guy in my head just reminded me how sensitive my teeth become twice a year and it just happens to be one of those times.  I like my dentist and my dental assistant though and if I wanna keep 'em (teeth) I gotta go.
And why do they try to talk to you when your mouth has a shovel and an ice pick in it anyways? 
I figure if I get the last appt of the day then they will be in a hurry to get home and won't lolly gag (emphasis on the gag) around.  Scrape my teeth with a rusty chainsaw chain and polish with steel wool that smells reminiscent of ABC mint gum and I'll be out the door drooling and gasping in pain as the cold air hits my freshly polished munchers.  Nope.  I believe they want me to get the full service treatment.  I get, not only great (albeit one sided) conversation I also get introduced to bone jarring, fist clenching, tear jerking sensitive root pain.  I don't know what else to call it but the ice pick on my # 14.  Holy Mother Fu&$@ Crap.
I believe I jumped out of the chair a good 4 inches.  The tears streaming down my cheek should have been a dead give away.  Nope.  One more poke.  This time I cry out.  Sort of a cross between someone stepping on an angry rooster and a whoopie cushion.  Not sure where the whoopie cushion sound was emitted from either.
So she says, "Oh you got a tender spot huh?"  One more jab.  My toes curled all the way back to my heals and I was wearing work boots.  The rooster once again jumped on the whoppie cushion and I said,"Yowza"
I actually did say that.  I also say howdy and I am not even a cowboy.  Go figure.  This time she apologized and I told her that she almost made me piss my pants.  She laughed!  Apparently 36 yr old men peeing in her dental chair is comical.  Huh!  So then of course I am as nervous as a guy standing next to Micheal J Fox holding a hand grenade.  She says she won't touch that spot again.  Then she says no really I won't and it's then I realize my body is stiff as a board and my mouth has snapped shut faster than Rikki Lake on a chicken leg.    After that I sort of block everything out I guess because the next thing I know she is handing me my green toothbrush and I am walking out the door.    I love my dentist.

Porn title for the post is.......Sorority Sluts Study Hard-Tuition Time.    I really would like to visit that college.
Picture of the post

Best and Final......suckers!

Well nothing happened yesterday.  Inside of A Simple Life sometimes things can be pretty boring.  Sometimes that's OK but when it's the beginning of the middle of winter  (you understand if you live in the midwest) boredom is not welcome.  I begin to see the benefits of beer when it comes to these months. 
What I really need is a project.  Like a HOUSE.  We had an offer in on a nice 4 bed/2bath tri level on 2 acres last week but it was a bank owned property and there were multiple offers.  The bank kept best and finaling us so we eventually said no more and the offer stands as is.  If you don't know what best and final is, it goes something like this:
Bank--List price $81,900
Bushman--I offer $85,000 and bank pays up to 6% closing costs.
Bank--OK there are 3 offers all similar make your final and best offer.
Bushman--OK $90,000 bank pays 6% closing costs.
Bank--OK all 3 still close submit any documents or arguments that would most qualify you for this
            house and would you be willing to sacrifice the refundability of your 2% deposit after inspections.
Bushman--Hell no I am not giving up 2% but I will increase my offer to $91,000.
Bank--OK all three offers are still close.  Submit your best and final offer.
Bushman--Hey bank?  Could you at least use some Vaseline because this is starting to get painful.  Also
                 could you please hang tight for a few minutes while I look up 'final' in the dictionary because
                 apparently I think it means something else. 
Bushman--OK I checked it out and I was right so eat it and my offer stands at $91K.
Bank--We have accepted the other offer.  Sorry you lose schmuck.  And Bushman?  Don't mess with the
              Big B.  We'll fuck you over every time.  Go money, Go money, It's your birthday, It's your birthday

That my friends is how best and final works.  I suggest that should you find yourself in this particular situation and really really want the house just tell the bank that your best and final is whatever they want to put on the empty line on the offer form.  It really is simple.  I should know Simple.  Apparently not!

Here is another feature I am going to start including at the end of my posts.  Some may not like it but I find it to be hilarious.  Probably a guy thing.  I have cable TV.  Digital, high speed, double DVR system, pay per view movies and pay per view porno.  I didn't ask for the porno its Gratis.  At least the titles are.  If you want to order one its gonna set you back around $15.  I still get to look at the titles though.  That is where the idea came for the end of the blog.  A new porno title every time.  Folks there are thousands of them and sometimes I think our world might be a little twisted so I'll try and leave those ones out.  I hope you find them as funny as I do!

Here goes:
MILF party pantie pull down II.   (apparently I missed the original first episode)

And picture of the post.  A tribute to the bank and the shit they do.  A picture about shit;

Missing with a Glimpse

Good morning! 
I was fortunate enough to find myself at my desk early this morning.  I shoveled the fresh snow from the driveway and the decks the whole time enjoying watching the dogs play in the new snow.  Invigorated and innocent they were.  They only cared to frolic and enjoy their play time.  A steaming cup of coffee in hand I sat down to peruse the world wide web.  A visit to Studio 30 took some time and I'll admit I still don't have it figured out.  So once I finished with that I ran back over here and checked the blog of note page to see who was up for stardome and I found "A Tiny Leaf".  I clicked and read.  I was awestruck at the beautiful words that were on the screen.  Powerful, descriptive, sad, I could go on and on.  I read about three posts I guess when I came across a poem that, I'll paraphrase because it is not mine, described what it would feel like to be a new no one.  I believe it was only about 4 lines or so but I was dumbfounded and moved at the same time.  I wanted to leave a comment and did so but when I tried to publish it-rejected.  It seems as though Tiny Leaf does not want to be BON and has removed all posts from her blog.  I wish she wouldn't have but that is her choice and I must respect that.  I was fortunate enough to read a bit and therefore find myself to be very lucky (if only for a few minutes).  I will keep this title in mind and after all the BON has worn down to  frazzle of yarn that even a nesting bird would pass by I shall visit again.  Perhaps by then she will have re-emerged as a new no one!

Prozac For Dogs (maybe a little for me)

Hello and welcome back from the extended commercial break.  What?  There was no commercials?  That's right I don't advertise on my blog.  This is for pure entertainment only.  Of course you wondering about the title.  That's why I put it up there.  It is very intriguing don't ya think?  Fine I'll quit asking you questions like your actually sitting there while I type.  Unnerving isn't it?  I'll get to the dog in a minute.  First things first I have to give a shout out to a recent blog of note.  One who shares some of my title.  Simple Dude
I have been following his blog since his debut on Blog of Note and I have to say honestly that I am intrigued.
It really is a fun read.  How he gets his ideas is beyond me but they are unique.  If you haven't had a chance to read then go check it out.  You may not like it but I do.  Perhaps it's just a thirty something relateable karma or some shit like that but just go read it I'm sure you can spare a few precious moments of your TV time.
OK now for the dog.  If your new to this blog then you know how much I love my dogs.  (guy in my head is laughing his ass off about the 'new' comment)  I came home from work on Tuesday to find my beloved Gunner aka Big Brown dog had eaten a few sundries from the bathroom/laundry stock.  The list is as follows:
1 pair of teenage panties (color unknown, only waistband recovered)
1 sheet style sticky lint roller ( removable sheets work inside the stomach as well)
1 stick of Shout Stain Remover (the only thing I can think of is the panties were stained and hairy)

How do I know what he ate?  There I go with the questions again.  Because when I arrived home it was displayed on the kitchen floor encased in vomit and showcased like some sick, twisted Price is Right gift.
(Guy in head is telling me it a new style of creativity they call Vomart! ) Sorry.  Well needless to say Gunner was not feeling well and proceeded to retch the entire night away.  Go ahead and sing that I dare you.
"retching....retching......retching the night away."  Sorry again.  We took him to the vet the next morning ( yes I called into work, something I never do... well since I quit drinking real heavy anyways)  Doc says Gunner will be fine and he thinks it's mostly chemical irritation causing him to retch.  I've tried that line before.  Cops really don't care.  So Big Brown Dog stayed the night at the vet and he had a few shots (not that kind!)  and a few pills (not that kind either) and was sent home today with 2 bottles to take along with a prescription for..................
PROZAC!!!  Doc says he has bad anxiety issues.  This should calm him down for a bit until he gets used to whatever is causing him anxiety.  (me leaving the house)  So...perhaps if I take the Prozac maybe I just won't care that he is having issues and we will all be fine.  Sort of like a redundant oxymoron!  I know that makes no sense but it is Thursday and I am on my 3rd beer.  So to me it kinda rings a bell!
But really Gunner is home and he is kinda tired and not really hungry so he is taking a big brown dog nap on the couch with Remmi and tomorrow we may start the Prozac.  For him ..not me.  I think I will try lithium.  I hear that's what they use on the crazy folk so it might just put a dent in me.  (guy in my head is screaming noooooo so I think I'm on the right track)  to 9 mile and back.  (for you Detroiters out there)
Gotta go.  Overtime tomorrow.  You people need to start setting more shit on fire.  Firetruck business is getting slow!!!!
Picture for the post...

Dinner @ the Famous Joe's Gizzard City and 6 below!!

If you have ever watched the food network then you have seen the show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.
Guy Fierri drives around the country finding these bad ass places to eat.  No fancy shmancy crap just damn good food the American way.  Well awhile back he came to our neck of the woods.  This itty bitty town named Potterville, Mi.  They do have a stop light although only one.  It is just a one horse town alongside the freeway between Lansing and the Indiana border.  In this little town is a little bar/restaurant that goes by the name of Joe's Gizzard City.  This is where Guy set up shop for one of his episodes.  Joe's is famous for fried gizzards.  Any way you like 'em.  Fried, naked, cajun, garlic and on and on.  The menu also has a few other eclectic items such as deep fried Oreos.  Deep fried meatballs.  The Potterville Poutine.  Oh and you can't forget the specialty beer such as Cock A Doodle Brew.  made famous by Guy's visit is the Triple D burger.
This is a battered and deep fried hamburger complete with all the fixings.  Crazy I know.  I believe they have a direct line to the Cardiac Ward in the Lansing hospital.  So here is what we had and forgive the pics they are from my phone.
I had the Potterville Poutine which is shredded Philly style beef, cheese and brown gravy dumped nicely over french fries and sprinkled with scallions.

Momma and baby Joe Joe split a Triple D burger and some chili cheese fries.

And my wonderfully skinny 14 yr old daughter who I believe comes equipped with her own personal herd of tapeworms had.....A Gizzard Dinner with onion rings and a salad and an order of chili cheese fries and also had a couple bites of Mommas burger.  Washing it all down with a big root beer.

Oh my!  Talk about a splurge night.  It was fun.

I was jarred awake this morning by some loud noises and as I lay in bed listening (5:30am) i figured out what it was.  There were several loud pops and cracks.  Sort of like the sound a frozen lake makes as it expands and contracts.  Turns out it is the house contracting in the cold weather.  Well not just cold because when I woke up it was -6 degrees.  Not 6 but minus 6.  The dogs didn't even want to stay out for any length of time.  Brrrrrrr  I hate winter!!!

To put into pictures what it is like outside this morning I have this:

How Simple Is It?

Good Morning to all of you out there in Simple Life reading land.
I suppose if you all had to live in one house we might just need a 3 bedroom maybe 4 to fit you all in.
I have been following some pretty neat blogs that I have picked off of blog of note.  Reading comments that other people post and visiting their blogs. 
When I started blogging in 2009 the only blog I had ever read was Cowgirls Country Life.  I had inadvertently ran over her site in a desperate attempt to control the search engine on my PC to research building meat smokers out of wood.  I know it sounds silly but wood was free at the time so I wanted to take advantage of the materials I was fortunate enough to be given, or had, depending on if you were watching or not!!
So anyways I was so intrigued by her site (mind you I had never heard the word blog before) that I spent a few hours reading it and thought that would be fun to write about what happens in my life.  At the time I was calling it an on line journal.  I had no idea what to name it and out of desperation (impatience) came up with the name A Simple Life.  The point of the story being now that I am two years into it I have seen a couple other blogs with similar sounding titles.  One being Simple Dude in a Simple World and another titled An Average Life.  So I guess I wasn't being too creative when I named my blog.  So now I'm thinking of changing it.  I know it doesn't really matter but.....
Then I started wondering how my title really fit into my daily life.  Is it really simple?  Perhaps I'm just simple minded is why I like the title.  I am truly a complex person so how can anything be simple with me.  At first glance I appear to be a shy, modest person.  I don't have many friends and don't get out much.
I prefer my kitchen, my garden, a true man cave (should I ever get one), a good book and a comfortable chair.  I fantasize about sitting on the deck or patio of my own home on a mild summer day coaxing the bubbles out of a cold red beer and smoking a nice big cigar while listening to birds chirp.  My two dogs next to me, whimpering in their sleep, dreaming of chasing rabbits.  Perhaps just looking at my beautiful garden and watching the wind whirlies spin on their sticks.  That is my simple life.  I suppose it's only simple at the end when all of the work is done but simple doesn't come easy now does it?
I wonder how some people have so many followers and so many comments and they all say you need to have a theme to your blog.  Visit and comment on other blogs.  Eventually if your good at it your followers will find you.  Hmmmmm.  First I have no theme.  I write about anything and everything.  You never know what your going to get from me.  Second I follow a few blogs and they are funny and I enjoy reading them but they have so many followers and commenters that you just get lost in the mix.  Thirdly the part where you need to be good.  Of course I think I'm good.  Duh!  Then I think about the lady that had 234 cats in her house and she thought that was good too!  Good is a very misleading word wouldn't you say?
So here is what I think.  (get ready here it comes)  I happen to like my "Simple Life" whether it be simple or not is only up to me.  I think I am OK as a writer (I'll tone it down just to appear to have some modesty)
And lastly there is no way in hell I will theme my blog.  So thanks to those of you that have stayed with me and continue to read my craziness.  I'm glad to have you with you.  Someday when I publish my first book you might be at the forefront.  It will say something like," Thanks to the few who followed my blog 20 yrs ago.  They kept me going!"  Yeah 20 seemed like a safe number.  Thanks again and now for the picture of the post.  (I always have a picture)

Drunk Haiku and Bubba!

Hi there!
Miss me?  Didn't think so.  Sorry I've been busy.  Lame ass excuse I know.  I wasn't really busy but lazy and busy can be misconstrued by any wayfaring, alley roaming drunkard!  Me too.  Although I stay out of alleys now a days.  Why you ask?  I have no fucking clue because I have not been in an alley in years.  Shit just rolls out of my head and onto this damn misspelling keyboard like you wouldn't believe.
I gotta wonder about the state of my welfare some days.  The guys at work commented the other day about you never know what the hell I might say.  Plum crazy.  Loco.  I can't help it.  You say something and I have 50 things to say back to you.  49 of them are a smart ass comment. the other one is a swear word.  Oops.
The company I work for has just struck a deal with Isuzu to manufacture some vehicles for them and of course everyone in the shop is talking about Japanese people now.  Is Isuzu Japanese?  Who give a shit.  They helped land a few jobs in the neighborhood that's all I care about.  Anyways that got me to thinking about Haiku poetry.  We used to think we were the shit back in grade school with that jazz.  Bring it home and mom hangs it on the fridge wondering why you write weird shit but keeping it to herself. 
I'm trying to remember how it goes but it something like 3-5-3.  3 syllables first line 5 second and so on.  Let's try it now about 30 years later and see how it goes.

I like beer
It gets me fucked up
Bartender another one

See its not that hard.  Can you imagine turning that crap into Ms. Schwarzwalder.  That fatty would've shit her granny panties.  Here's another one.

Got a job?
No. Too lazy to work.
I hear ya.

Sorry, sorry sorry. (not really)  I am in one of my moods. 
I'm trying to buy this house.  Its a battle.  List price is 70K.  HUD home needs a shit pot of repairs.  I bid 50k.  Rejected.  I re-bid 55k.  Nothing.  Talk to mortgage broker last night she says she had a deal on that house last year and they accepted at 40k but the deal fell through.  What the hell?
Piss on them.  Looking at other shit now.  Maybe find something better.  Who Knows.
I sort of feel like a dog taking a piss out in the yard.  Leg cocked up letting the stream flow, feeling good about myself and then here comes another little sumbitch and cocks his leg and pisses all over my fresh pee.  Now that pisses me off but guess what I'm outta pee and the little bastard has  run off already.  That is the metaphor for my life.  Day late, dollar short and fresh outta pee!!!!!!!!!!
Picture for the day.  Drunk Haiku and my little brother.

Stories, Stories, Stories

I took the liberty of moving the new book to its own blog page.  This will give it a better chance to actually be readable.  If I keep it on here then it will get lost in all my other crap I yak about.
I sort of have an idea where the book is headed but not completely.  I might actually try on this one.  I love to write stories but it is easy to get bogged down in them and before you know it they get stale and you don't want to play anymore.  I like to save shortcuts on my desktop to the stories I've started and there are a few on there that need dusting to say the least.  There are a few tid bits on here that I have posted such as
Jap Juice and  Johnnies got Knuckles .   
Jap Juice is a complete short story.  Johnnies Got Knuckles is just a couple pages posted and the rest are hiding on my desktop still waiting to get out.
I think my biggest problem with writing is I don't know where the story is usually heading and I'm too damn impatient to let it ride.  I want to find out myself and that usually ends up ruining it.  Damn writing anyways.  Of course nothing is edited and if I go back and reread I would make a million changes but I sort of like the virginity of the words.  Just let it spill out.  Generally speaking most works, of lets a say a thousand pages, usually make a 750 page book.  We can't control ourselves and that is why they have editors.  Someone to keep us in check and make our stories publishable. 
So with that said here is another clip from a story I started about a year ago.  Enjoy!

The Station

Chapter 1
Carl’s demise

He was right. There was no way out. Even if the two lonely vehicles in the parking lot would start the pumps were dry and how far could they get on one tank of gas. He didn’t think far enough. Far enough to get out of their range that was. He gave the girl a sorrowful look. She was an optimist. He had to give her that but when things were done they were done. It didn’t matter that she had hope. Wasn’t that what was in Pandora’s Box anyways? Hope. His goose was cooked and he knew it. It didn’t matter what she thought.

The question was, how to go out in style. How to do it eloquently you might say. Even though there were only a four of them left he didn’t want them to see him as a snively, whiny coward. A yellow belly.

Besides if they didn’t leave or try to leave, their supplies would soon run out. They weren’t the only ones that had stopped here, and by the looks of things outside not the only ones to get caught here either. The cooler still held some soda and juice. The water and beer missing, probably the first thing to go.   Diet 7-up, orange juice, Cheetos, pretzels and granola bars are what they had been existing on for a few days now. The stale cheese puffs weren’t that bad if you had something to wash it down with. It was like a poker night gone wrong, horribly wrong.

The power had went out last night. Once the lights had died the thumping began. The probing and searching for a week spot. An entry. A meal ticket to the smorgasbord you might say. Sleep was all but impossible. Thankfully during the day the noises retreated. Although you could hear the muffled thuds and clangs coming from behind the station. It was still out there. He couldn’t help but feel trapped sort of like the people from the Stephen King novel about the cars that came to life. They had made that into a movie, with Emilio Estevez and a couple other famous people,  he couldn’t recall the name at the moment.

A funny though crossed his mind. If he had to choose, which would it be? Killer cars or something that he couldn’t quite describe but knew wanted to kill him and eat him.. Thinking it was deadly and knowing it was deadly were two different things.  You chose more on the conservative side when lives were at stake.
He knew especially after Carl had succumbed to the thing or things outside. It had moved so fast.

They had thought things were in the clear, Carl had made a run out to the gas pumps to see if they were working, when it hit. The sun was just setting and the shadows were at their longest before vanishing altogether when he went out. He had almost reached the pumps, in fact he remembered his outstretched arm reaching for the handle when it hit and it was so fast. Surprisingly fast. He was drug into the shadows and out of sight before the brain could register he was gone. It was like blinking, there one second gone the next. Had he not seen the toe of Carl’s sneaker disappear around the corner he would’ve thought he had vanished. They could hear the unmistakable sounds of bones breaking and his screaming went on for what seemed like an hour but in reality was only seconds. The sick ripping sound was more than the girl could take and she fell to her knees retching up her lunch of orange juice and pretzels.   They quickly locked the door and retreated to the back of the station. Trapped, scared and horrified they huddled in the back of the station.  No one said a word, the smell of vomit lingered in the air and they waited.

The Payment-chapter 1

Prologue
I was up at 5:30 this morning and for some reason I was thinking about the moonlight and how it reveals to me what has happened over night.  Of course there was no moon this morning and I wished there would have been because I had to don my boots and jacket and shuffle through the snow to see what it was like out there.  So I just couldn't shake the thought of moon beams and with a spot of Van Morrison singing in my head I conjured up the following images.  Perhaps those moonbeams are not always such a good thing.
Please enjoy this little story.  I will try and work on it everyday until finished.  If you don't like it you won't hurt my feelings because at least I know you read it.  Thanks to all my readers. 

The Payment
chapter 1

Somewhere deep in the recesses of the night a clock ticks pretentiously. Far too fast yet slow and rhythmic. Tick. Tick. Tick. It's noise foretelling of the day to come and the day being lost. Outside the window a cricket chirps in time with the clock. Singing his song while making his intentions known. The full moon shines brightly and its illuminate is just beginning to reach the edge of the window, creating a beam of light that stretches mightily and lands on the floor. In this circle of light sits a small field mouse nibbling on a crust of bread that was knocked to the floor during the previous eve’s dinner. His whiskers quiver as he nibbles and his tiny paws hold his morsel with grace and confidence as he rolls the bread around eating the best bits first. Another mouse appears at the edge of the moon circle and tussles with the first trying his best to gain access to the tiny bit of bread. They both scurry back into the shadows leaving tiny footprints in the dust on the wooden floor.


The room sits quiet. The mice have left in search of more treasures and the crickets have stopped. The room is growing colder. The fire, left unattended, is now just a handful of red coals glowing mightily but unable to fight the cold and the darkness. Soon it shall be swallowed by the night.

To the side of the fireplace tucked away in the corner of the room are a table and two chairs. One of the chairs has been knocked over and is lying on its side. It has landed mere inches from the dying embers of the fire. On the table is a piece of paper. Its content is unreadable in the darkness. On the other side of the fireplace, within reach of its heat, are two wooden bunks. The mattresses appear to be stuffed with straw. The bunks are situated side by side. On the far bunk is a shape that resembles that of a human form but the darkness cloaks any distinguishable features. It is for now only a shape and a shadow. The near bunk is empty except for a small stuffed toy bear.

As the night deepens and the moon arcs across the sky the moon circle slowly creeps across the floor. It reveals new things in its methodical plodding across the wooden planks. There are muddy footprints strewn about the floor. A bureau has been upended and a few remnants of clothing lay scattered amidst the muddy footprints. The door has been left open a crack and the late October air is battling the remaining heat in the room. The moon circle moves ever so slightly and as it reaches the edge of the bunks it reveals a slowly spreading pool of red. The moon circle travels over the bunk and past the fireplace to the table and as it illuminates the paper a gust of wind breaches the door and whisks the paper from the table and it sails to the floor directly in front of the last dying embers of the fire.

The embers cast just enough glow to reveal 3 words scrawled on the paper. Didn't--payment--taking.

Another breeze infiltrates the cabin and the embers quickly react to the fresh oxygen and burst into flames once more with a quick snap and pop. It is the pop that sends the small ember arching into the air to land directly on the paper. The paper begins to smolder and as another gulch of air penetrates the room it is swept under the fallen chair and ignites into full flame. Its orange tongue licking at the dry wood of the chair and it is only moments before the chair is burning brightly. The whole room is lit up and now we see the tragedy that has befallen this one room cabin.

As the structure begins to burn readily the last thing visible are the two mice which scamper quickly out the open door and into the embraces of the night. As they scurry away from the cabin snowflakes begin to drift from the cold October sky.


This story now has it's own blog page.  You can find it on the right side of the screen at the top of the page.  Check in for new pages.

Bunch A' Bitchin

Worked a little OT today.  6 hours not much but I'll take it.  You never know what's gonna happen tomorrow.  Could be laid off.  No wait tomorrow is Saturday so I'll have to wait till Monday to get laid off.  I'm just saying.  Shit happens and sometimes your the one that has to clean it up. 
Or you could be like the people I seen on TV during Katrina at the Superdome or whatever they call it down in Louisiana.  What an embarrassment to America to have that on TV.  I will never forget people screaming at the camera that no one was taking care of them.  In a world so bent on democracy all they want is socialism.  Doesn't make sense to me.  We spend our whole lives wanting, working and striving to be independent and free of governing and then when shit hits the fan we start screaming for the government to help us.  Well guess what?

I love my country but I don't expect anyone to bail me out.  It's Darwinism at it's finest.  Survival of the fittest.  Terrible thing to say I know.  But if you are deserving then you shall one of many that is accounted for.
There were many good people hurt during Katrina.  Our media chose to show us the crap that they did.  It's great for ratings.  Objectivity and racism and hatred and judgementalism are the best rated TV shows on and they are making millions.  Think about it.  When you sit down to watch TV, say survivor for example, don't you love to hate someone and make comments about another.  That is our entertainment.  Watching the demise of another be swallowed up by Jonah's whale (the viewer).  Brings a whole new understanding to public hangings now doesn't it? 

I'm sorry I love to rant and rave about things that I think I understand but I am still just a peon in this thing called life.  I am no Gandhi or JFK.  I simply want people to behave in a fashion that advances our industry(life) and abolishes negativity.  A bad attitude is what got the whole thing started in the first place. 

How in the hell I got started on this I'm not sure.  I did go look at a house today. It's a HUD home.  They want 70K for it but it needs a lot of work so I think I will offer 50.  I have 4 days left to put my bid in.  God help me on this commitment.  I should call my cousin on the DIY network.  She has a show called rehab addict.  It's all about rehabbing houses.  Maybe make a TV show out of it.  Whad'ya think? 
In the end I will do it all by myself just like always.  I'm too picky about things.  My wife says OCD.  I say picky.  I never heard of OCD when I was growing up.  Why do they gotta go and change everything.  Now you can take drugs so your not picky.  Trust me it doesn't work.  I've seen a lot of contractors on that drug.  They were not picky at all.  Now that I think of it maybe it wasn't that drug. Hmmmm.

Pastie pictures

Just wanted to share some pics of the Pasties I made last night.  They were delicious.  Simple food for a simple life.
I made the dough using flour, sugar, salt, water and yeast. Let it rise for an hour.  If you want the recipe you'll have to go see  Cowgirls Country Life and look for bierocks.  I borrowed it from her.  Although hers are smoked and mine are ovened!!

While it was rising I made the filling by browning burger, sauteing onions, celery, green peppers, garlic,cabbage and potatoes.

Then I rolled the dough when it was ready

Plopped down some filling and cut the dough with a pizza cutter around it and wrapped it.  Brushed with melted butter and dropped in the oven at 375 for about 40-60 until golden brown.  I ended up with 8 total so we had 4 for dinner and 2 for lunch today and I have 2 more in the freeze for next time and a free dinner!!!

Then I smothered them with brown gravy.  Yumm!!

Waiting for dough

Exactly what you think it means of course.
I am waiting for the dough to
A. show up in my bank account, B. rise in the bowl or C. to ooze out of my ears. 
My wife would surely pick C.  There can not be anything up there that would resemble brains other than dough and by golly it just has to be dough because she can very well attest to it folks.  Brains are what normal people use to squeeze through life.  I use dough.  No really the answer is A and C.  I need the dough to finish rising in the bowl so I can make some Pasties for dinner (or as Cowgirl calls them Bierocks)  Just a simple meal.  Potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, onion, celery, burger and cabbage rolled up in a dough ball and smothered with gravy.  It's worth millions but only cost pennies.  How's that for a description?  The only bad part is my blue jeans are now white jeans.  I haven't figured out how to make dough without turning my clothes white from the countertop down.  Oh well!
And A is true because I need to somehow scrape up $1500 so I can buy a house.  I got everything else covered as far as down payments, closing costs and all that jive but I need some extra reserves in the account to make the squirrley little underwriter happy.  They say it's a buyers market but I'm not sure they're talking regular buyers.  Only rich buyers.  They left out an important identifier.  Or adjective if you will.
Of course I could just wait for the next one to come around but when you want something you just want it and sometimes nothing will change your mind.  Except money!  I wonder if the underwriter likes pasties or jerky or sauage or....probably not.  I cans see him now perched at his desk nibbling saltines and sipping warm tap water.  Wondering if he will find another penny in the parking lot as he walks to his extremely fuel efficient crossover hybrid of a vehicle. 
Well i should go the dough is almost risen.  I wonder if I should check the bank account.  Maybe pour a packet of yeat into the checkbook?  Who knows? 

Damn Winter Anyways!!

Not much today.  I had just typed a whole post and somehow deleted the damn thing.  Oh how mad I am.  Have you ever tried to re-type something and have it come out the same way as the first time.  I mean this blog has auto save but apparently there is a button or a magic combination of buttons somewhere on the keyboard in the location of your right hand below your pinky finger that nullifies and deletes it.
You're looking aren't you?
It killed the whole post and nothing was saved.  So you don't get to read the crap I had previously written.
I added a few more favorite posts over there on the right.  In case you're that bored.

The warm weather is gone.  Replaced by cold winds and snow showers.  I like snow but it has to be in a cup with cherry juice over it.  Damn winter anyways.  Jan. Feb. and March are the three worst swear words in Michigan.  The holidays are over and it's time to hibernate.  What do we do here all winter to stay sane?
Most just stay drunk all winter.  Isn't that ironic.  Changing your state of being so that you state of being doesn't change.  You figure it out.  It doesn't take much either.  Your sitting at the table and looking out the window and you see flurries and you say, " hey it's snowing again".  The only reply you here is the caps being twisted off beer bottles and corks flying out of wine bottles.  By the end of the night everyone is happy and saying," Yeahh it schnowing agin.  I juzt lub da snow it makz me soooooo happy."  So after the drunken snowman contest and the snow angel making episode ends we pick ourselves up out of the street and head back into the bar for another shot of whiskey.  No I'm just kidding it wasn't whiskey it was schnapps.
In all seriousness I don't do that.  Anymore.  I'm getting to old to be having sleep overs at the county jail. 

I suppose I will just have to hang out with my dogs instead this winter.  Maybe the wife and kids once in awhile.  So in honor of old man winter settling in I will post a few pics just to screw with your head.

New Years Resolutions?????????

Well here we are again.  The first day of a new year.  Sorry for the generic title.   Remember back when we had the Y2K panic.
That was a trip.  My boss at the time had us hoarding gas in huge tanks.  What a joke that was.  I must admit the hype was entertaining but I can only imagine the money that was lost over that deal.  Now here it is 2011 and the world is supposed to end in 2 more years.  What a load of crap.  This is what I did on my new years eve.  Stayed home with the ones I love and enjoyed a couple movies and a nap with my yellow puppy!

I generally don't make resolutions but his year I might just try something different.
I am resolved to not rip the arms off of people who piss me off and beat them to death with their own appendages.  I will take chances.  I will overcome adversity and I will plant my tree of hope upon this sad, dismal place an hope that it brings shade to those overburdened with the heat of life.  I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.  Time to do something about it.

About 29 years ago my brother and I received  bronze medallions for Christmas from my birth mother.  It was all she could give us that year.  It was during this time that she was in the clutches of alcoholism and just beginning her first steps into sobriety.  On this medallion, virtually rubbed away, were the words,
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference".
I was mortified that this was going to be my Christmas present.  I was only 8 yrs old and did not understand the fullness of things.  We were teetering precariously on the ledge of life.  No one would have thought we could balance for so long a time without falling off.  We were children and children overcome.  What beautiful resilient creatures we were back then.  Little did I understand the words on the medallion let alone appreciate the immensity of their power.  The medallion has long been lost to the turmoils of life.  Sucked up in the never ending vacuum of time and space.  Vanished but never forgotten.  Those words have been seared into my soul since the first day I read them.  Never to be forgotten.  It is only now 29 long years later that I might just truly understand their meaning.  It does not just apply to those who are recovering it applies to all of us. 
My heart goes out to a friend and maybe one of these days, a sister in law, who lost her father yesterday.  A sudden heart attack claimed his life.  And if this wasn't bad enough she just lost her mother 5 months ago. 
My heart hurts for her and I can not fathom her pain nor do I have words for comfort.  I am at a loss.  It is with this that I look deep into my soul and read the story of my life and wonder if I shall like the ending.

So to all of you I ask, " Can you make a difference?  Can you live a difference?  Is this the year that you find your medallion and hold it up to the sun for all to read?  I think I know what my resolution is!