Category Archives: parenting
as a result of prolonged exposure to the interwebs and the infectious contagion known as ‘blogging’ at the recent gathering dubbed PhlemPhest coupled with repeated use of the phrase “if I had a blog I would write about….” we now have Not Always Right
He’ll find a way to
Wright write about airplanes I just know he will ….. gah! I hate airplanes. Something to do with my Dad taking me to all those airshows and airstrips when I was growing up I think.
Thx DAD!! I told you I’d get even … practically dared me to make you a website didn’t ya? HAH!!
Happy Father’s Day 😛
Conversation at the girl scout cookie stand as mom counts out change
Me: Aww that ain’t right. They don’t get to use their math skills.
Mom: the council won’t let ’em handle money but we make ’em tell us how much.
Me: won’t let?
Mom: yeah they don’t want people stealing the money pouch from the little girls
Me: what kind of person would …
Mom: really. What kind of jerk…
Me: … should be able to drop ’em at 50 yards and just leave ’em for the police to pick up
Mom: yep should be a merit badge for that…..
I love Texas
this has been perhaps the single most frustrating day ever created
apple tech support tells me that software is not a product and as such is not supported but if i happen to have any random serial number on an actual piece of hardware even if it is unrelated to the current difficulty then they can help me. help of course means spending 6 hours copying files from one piece of hardware to another just so i can import it into their craptastic unsupported monopolistic piece of shit non-product software ..uh, i mean just uninstall, delete it all and start over.
3 phone calls, 2 emails and counting.
mastercard tells me 2 of my cards have been compromised in some sort of security breach possibly as far back as 18 months.
my card issuing banks tell me it is an ongoing investigation and there is no additional information available at this time.
so no doubt i will unknowingly take my remaining card and go do business with the same cornhole merchant buddy fucking store that has bent me over 5 times already in the last 6 months
6 phone calls, 1 email and counting
there is a new nurse at the endocrinologists office and i had to get some sort of modern communication device to connect the dr office and the pharmacy in a semblance of real-time communications today so that i could get my insulin prescriptions renewed – there being no refills available on the current Rx.
7 phone calls, 2 trips to the pharmacy, 3 faxes
Dairy Queen’s current hired handicapped apparently doesn’t get the fact when one orders a triple cheeseburger in order to drown one’s sorrows and frustration in a juicy greasy American tradition there better be some damned cheese on it when the large homicidally crabby man gets home and unwraps it.
and if that isn’t enough…. today is the day I celebrate another birthday of the little girl I’ve never met because her selfish conniving bitch mother waited 10 years to tell me she was born. I’ll go to the store at some point and buy another gift, throw it in the giant box in storage and watch it rot with all the others I’m not allowed to send her.
sigh .. gonna go pick up dog poo for a bit
I hate coupons
My mother would clip coupons and then run to the store and buy all kinds of crapola we never used or needed or (in some cases) even knew existed. But by God we’re gonna have 4 gallons of olives that no one will eat for 25 cents less than the next silly bastard. The advanced mathematical concept of spending 8 bucks on something we can’t possibly use just so we can throw it away spend 25 cents less than someone who may actually need it was completely foreign to her. Having it explained by a 6 year old just means I need my mouth washed out with soap for giving her lip. Chewing up a few bars of soap to prove my point, while waving the coupon for 2 for1 soap in her face … well ok that is probably over the line….Maybe if I had issued a friggin’ coupon for 25 cents off some damn math classes life would have been easier for me. Alas, hindsight and all that… If I only knew then what I know now … etc etc.
I went to college and spent some time in the barracks when I was in the military so I make a single exception to the coupon avoidance rule: Pizza. 1 exception to the rule. That is all.
I won’t use coupons to line a litter box. Will NOT use them. Not with green eggs and ham (half off on Tuesday). Not on a log or with a dog. I will not use them. Ever. Carved in stone.
Today I got an email coupon for reduced admission to the gun show……
I hope they have pizza
there’s a post over at Abby-K9’s that sparked some old childhood memories tonight.
When I was 5 I was late to class one morning because my father’s german shepherd mix had a litter of pups. It was neat that I got to take puppies to show and tell that week. Living in the country and coming from a farming background, my dad seized the moment and kind of explained the whole idea of reproduction. I say ‘kind of’ because well, he’s a DAD, and I was 5. That took some of the shine off the situation, newborn pups are fun to a 5 yr old, but not as a teaching aid. Still, not every kid in kindergarten can say he’s delivered puppies, not even in a farming community.
At some point it was decided that I could keep one.
This was huge. I could keep a puppy!! Just like Dad! A 5 yr old just doesn’t have the working vocabulary to express that level of awesomeness. This is why we have hugs. (I’m pretty sure this decision was made without consulting mother. Mother is/was petrified of 99% of everything that walked or crawled the earth; horses being the lone exception.)
There were 6 to choose from. In some freak twist of weirdness there were 3 with normal length tails, 2 with short half tails and 1 with a bobbed tail. Sorting out the oddball took all of about 3 seconds and naming him Bob Dog, while taxing my brain to the limit, still brought me in under 5 minutes.
Later on it was determined that the name “Bob Dog”, while genius in its simplicity and accuracy, was completely inadequate for mother’s disciplinary system. One cannot stand at the door and scream at someone with no middle name. There are simply not enough syllables to convey the appropriate amount of discontent. So, “Bob Dog” became “Robert J. Dog” about 10 seconds after he learned to dig up flowers. “Robert” rolls off the tongue much better than “Bobby” at high volume.
My memories of Bobby as a pup are pretty limited. Mom grew up in town and had 2 terms for critturs: 1) horse and 2) filthy animal. Dad grew up on a farm and had 2 terms for critturs: 1) livestock and 2) farmhand. I was apparently struck by lightning or dropped repeatedly as a child because I had my own terms for critturs: 1) best friend and 2) parents.
I wasn’t allowed to keep my filthy animal in mother’s house. Money was rarely allocated for the vet or shots, but we grew up together and looked out for each other. I had to go to school and he roamed the back roads. We put up fence and he learned to climb over it, so he got chained to a post in an effort to keep him from visiting the neighbors or being run over. I could let him run in the yard when I was home, but life and parents kept him on a chain and me doing other things much of the time. Dad and I built him a nice doghouse with plenty of insulation and fancy aluminum siding. It had a nice muddy basement that Bobby excavated himself and in the winter I snagged a bale of hay out of the barn so he’d be extra snug.
I was not introduced to the idea of ‘training’ until much later in life and as a youngster I considered myself an over-achiever because my dog knew his name and would come running when I whistled. He knew enough to not chase the livestock, got along with the cats, could ride in the car without barfing and was smart enough to learn which parts of dad’s motorcycle were too hot to jump up on. He didn’t bark unless something noteworthy was going on and I never heard him growl at anyone.
The closest I’ve been to seriously damaging someone was the day I caught my brother’s friends throwing rocks at my dog. Lets just say I was still angry hours later after I’d located and confronted the parents and explained the consequences should their idiot children not learn from the day’s lessons. Up to that day I’d always considered my brother to be mostly harmless and completely useless. Knowing that he brought people to the house and let them abuse my pet is not something I’ve dwelled on over the years but I know even today, if he were on fire I’d probably try to put it out with rocks.
I can still remember the discussions with the family when I was going off to college. Bobby couldn’t go. Mother had moved out and of course her home was still anti filthy animal. Dad wasn’t in a position to worry about a dog food bill when he was fighting for custody of his children. Can’t have a dog in the dorms at the U. What to do? Bob Dog was 12 ish and that’s pretty good for an old dog in the country. The official story is that he went off to some shirt-tail relation’s acreage in a different part of the farm country to live out his years in peace and quiet. Yeah, I know. It’s been used before and it’ll get used again.
Do I think we all need formal training? Do we need driver’s training or parenthood classes or firearms safety? No.
[I know half of you just heard “say again?” in your head]
What we need is a high school diploma.
If I go into the Harley dealer and throw my money on the counter, instead of asking to see a driver’s license I should be able to show them my diploma.
Need a John Deere tractor? Got a diploma? yup. Sign here, come back any time Sir.
Need a Snowmobile? Chainsaw? Dynamite? Sailboat? Razor Blade? Got my diploma card right here. Sold.
OMG OMG you can’t teach all that in school, there’s too much to learn. shut up. I’m not done.
School (and parents) should teach how to recognize a dangerous tool when you see one. You should also get taught the ENGLISH language so you know how to READ THE F***ING INSTRUCTIONS; the one that says “Poison: do not take internally” or “Contains tobacco: May cause cancer”. If you can do basic reading comprehension you should be able to buy any item you want, hazardous or not, read the label and use it at a basic level of proficiency. For advanced proficiency do some research on your own [you should learn how to do research in SCHOOL], seek out others who are proficient, to learn from, and practice.
If you are thoughtless enough to drive drunk, your ability to make decisions impacting the freedoms & rights of other citizens is suspect and as a result society has a responsibility to restrict your access to other dangerous things. Can you still buy groceries? Sure. Can you live on my street? Sure. Can you buy a car? No. You’re the Mass-Transit Ranger bro. A car is a deadly weapon in the hands of a negligent driver, and you demonstrated your brain has no safety catch.
Again, we don’t need lawmakers to make more rules in an attempt to prevent stupidity from happening. We need to make the education system better. Face it friends and neighbors, stupid is gonna happen no matter what. Stupidity is a force of Nature, it’s like rain and wind.
We need less of this ‘no one left behind’ B.S. and a lot more ‘you stay here until you learn it’. Graduating underachievers is dangerous to the public. Drivers who can’t read road signs are dangerous. Parents who can’t read medicine bottles are dangerous.