if i were you

Oh freak! Oh freak! That is what I would be saying if this were me.

dang you, dang me, dang us together. that's the way it should be.

There have been times in my life when I have been asked to do things that I feel are one hundred percent pointless. When those times present themselves there is usually a great deal of grumbling coming from me. Yes, yes, I am a grumbler. It often times amazes me how well I can grumble, curse, yell, moan, deprecate, and belittle without using even one swear word. I am not the type of person that causes others to fear me because of my words; my muscles can do that on their own. What makes others fear me is my temper. A brother of mine has described me as being like a match head, quick to ignite and yet quick to extinguish. That same brother has also received my patented Death Look on several occasions, which is more than likely the reason that he is able to so accurately describe me. But I think that fear might be too strong of a word to describe others’ reactions to my temper; waiting to see what lunatic-type things I might do or say would be more accurate, I think. I have been known to punch chairs with a great deal of gusto, throw boards as far as I can into empty fields, crush gaming controllers into dust, and, my personal favorite, kick a bucket across the room hard enough that it put a dent in the wall. All of these instances happened with only the slightest amount of provocation from an inanimate object. Some have also been the result of being asked to do something that I feel is pointless such as punching the chair, kicking the bucket, and throwing the board. Crushing the gaming controller was a pure, unadulterated temper outburst.

At the very moment I am writing this I am also playing a cat and mouse game with a fly that seems to think I am its landing pad. I hate flies. In fact I hate them enough that I wouldn’t even respect them enough to eat them. When I kill them I leave their guts plastered to the wall as a warning to all other flies that if they bug me, their guts, too, will be spilt. I have just told the fly with unprofaned profanities that I am a predator and will hunt him till he is dead. He is not dead yet, @#%$&*$.

hello sexy thing...

It takes a certain kind of male to be able to cover themselves in mud and then smile at the camera as if they were the sexiest thing on planet Earth. Seeing this guy’s face, I think he actually believes that every woman to have ever lived desires him as their mate. To be honest, I have days when I have no doubts about me being the sexiest man alive. Monday was a day like that. Lacking only the physical evidence to prove this title, I rode my bike down the street strutting my stuff in the only way a person can when riding atop two wheels. And as will happen with all who find themselves loving their animal appeal more than the world, I didn’t see a rut in the dirt until my tire fell into the hole, sending my body over the handlebars and into the weeds. Believe it or not, I still felt sexy as I righted myself and proceeded to ride into the sunrise.

As I write this, young children who should not have been reading over my shoulder, and who should not have been reading about sexy things, have started giggling. They are not my children. They are my students, and they should all be working on a test right now. But as luck would have it they have questions. I try to portray myself as the non-grump type, so I oblige their requests for help which allows them full view of my screen. I should have been smarter about the situation. Least of all I could have minimized what I was typing, but as I didn’t my only defense was yelping somewhat frantically, “It’s not what it appears!” It doesn’t matter though, no matter what I say from this point forward they all will think that I consider myself to be a sexy enough thing to write about it. Hopefully none of them saw my bike crash.

acme special

Naturally I thought about being sentimental on this post, after all, it is one of the many September 11 anniversaries that we will have in this country. If I would have stuck with that natural thought of mine I would have posted the first picture, which I did end up posting, and then I would have written about what I remembered from that horrific day, such as: a girl I liked telling me she wanted nothing to do with me, my brother Burke telling me that I should join the armed forces because it would be B.A.D., my chickening out of the armed forces, my mom filling up the gas tank on my car because of the gas shortage scare that didn’t end up happening, but thanks anyway mom, the film my brother, Burke, made about September 11, an insane amount of soon to fade American pride, the five protesters on main street, and last but not least, the two towers falling. All of this went to make up a very crazy yet memorable time in my life. But I don’t want to post about that.
What I would like to post about, the real post mind you, is the second picture. While somewhat related to the first picture, only less visually stimulating, it reminds me strongly of my childhood, specifically my cartoon-watching years. For some reason I expect to see Wiley Coyote praying with these religious men after another failed attempt at bombing the ever-evasive Road Runner (beep beep). Someone should let these poor boys know that their building has fallen down around them, and that the door that is being reached for leads to a room that has only two walls left. The only thing that would make this picture complete would be to have some hippies dancing to the Macarena by the fully intact tomb.

I wish I had a boat

The first thing that came to my mind when I saw this picture was, “I bet that guy wishes he had a boat.” The guy I'm referring to is the one wearing the blue pants, no shirt, and is scratching his head. I'm sure a burger and a nice cold brewsky would be nice, but a boat would really enhance his life, I think.

If anyone is looking for a good analogy for a motivational speech, a church talk, or an opening to talk to your wife about her over-spending and the need to prepare for the future, this picture might be for you. Even though I don’t know any more about the picture than it is a Pakistani dude stranded on his farm due to flooding, I wonder if last week he was walking through the marketplace with his wife- - sorry ladies, it does happen- - and instead of buying the boat like he wanted his wife bought a new blanket to hang over their doorway. And now, as luck would have it, the floods came and they are stuck with no boat, but they do have a new blanket on their door that I'm sure looks “adorable” from up close.

ladies & Gentlemen, my mom

First prize-grand prize is awarded to my mother. I suppose it is only right to give the award to her since she is the only one besides me that reads my blog. The only difference is that when I read my blog I think how clever and witty I am. When my mom reads my blog she thinks, “I don’t get it,” or as her comment suggests, “Why would you think that?” That last phrase is something that I heard quite a lot as a child. In fact I heard it enough that I married a girl that says the exact same thing to me. The only difference there is that my wife follows that query with, “By the way, you used that word wrong.” Incidentally my wife is the third person to read my blog, but she reads it before it is published to make sure I don’t say anything incriminating about me or the family, and to make sure I don’t use words like defecating when I really mean deprecating. But I usually do mean defecating, in the real sense. As in, pooping on yourself. But I digress.

If you are an unknown, unidentified person that faithfully reads my blog and are wondering why my mom deserves the first prize-grand prize award over you, it is because she is the first to comment on my blog. Better luck next time. Just so you are aware there is another prize for the tenth person to comment. That prize is a lot better than the first prize-grand prize that only gets your picture representing the blog for a week. But just like the first prize-grand prize, you don’t get to find out what it is until you win. So good luck unknown world. You are in a race against my mom!

I shake my head with disbelief.

These pictures come from a website known as MSN week in pictures. When I google it I always just type in “msn week”. Google always finds it for me. It really is something amazing. Two of the beauties of this website are that first, you get at least 12 carefully crafted photographs that depict the world news. Then after a viewer views all of the photos they get to vote on the one they think is the best. It is the perfect site to go to if you are looking for a good time once every week. One of the more exciting features of the voting process comes after you select your pic then sit back and wait to see how many Americans agree with you, that is assuming that only Americans go to the site.

This week, picture #1 was the house favorite. Picture #2 didn’t even make the top five but was my selection. Picture #1 isn't something that you would see every day, but neither is picture #2. In my opinion picture #1 belongs in a family slideshow. Picture #2 I would enlarge, frame, and then hang it on my wall to mesmerize my guests. A bit of a crock I think that picture #2 wasn’t even a contender. What was America thinking?

mannequin-wo

Oh, does this bother you. Do you not like looking down the back of your fate. Well to bad. Your future with me is here and there is only one way through it. Hah. Hah. In your face crack. Here we go.