Sunday, May 30, 2004

Old Friends and Yankee Holidays

Now I know y'all would be suprised to find that I celebrate a holiday that honors the Yankee's who died while raping and pillaging the South. In fact, I don't celebrate it at all. I cannot however, force my wife to work. It just so happens that around this three day weekend, she sandwiched a couple vacation days, a POOF! now we have a 5 day weekend.

The weekend's been spent with the Legendary Shane Smith, his beautiful and charming wife Brooke, and their three fine kids, Cade (6weeks), Logan (4), and Madison (7). Boy's it's been a trip.

First of all, about 2 hours south of morgantown we hit a thunderstorm. Normally drivin' in the rain don't bother me... but well.. it seems that the windshield wiper motor chose this particular time to lock up. You ever tried to change a windshield wiper motor in the parking lot of Advance Auto in the rain? I have. After about an hour and a half the thing was almost disconnected, and I was almost ready to shoot myself. That's when I climbed out from under the hood to find... The rain had stopped. Well... Fine... I'll bandaid it till we get to shane's and we'll fix it there.

We arrived ok, and had a great night there. We hung out with Shane and his family, and Joy drove up to see us, and even Laurie, who could easily be considered the first addition to my harem showed up to hang out with us. Sittin' on the porch, smoking a cigar, drinkin' a corona with Shane and Laurie... Boys I was happy as I could be.

Least I thought I was... But hell.. We hadn't even got to the lake yet!!! Saturday we split time between swimming.. sunnin' our carcasses, tubing, boatin', and stuffin' our faces. A fine time to be sure. I'll type up an adventure or two for ya from the lake... I'm sure you'll be glad to hear about how I nearly died while being drug behind a ski-boat... and about my wife's acrobatics on the waverunner... not to mention Jeb's first boat ride... Man...

I sincerely hope you have had a chance to spend some time with dear friends and family... If not... You still have tonight and monday. Get off the computer and go dammit. Oh yeah, and raise a beer to Nate will ya?

I can assure you my friends I do not neglect you without good reason. Sadly, I lost connectivity Thursday night, and until this moment, I have been offline. I've about gone mad. You think crack is addictive? Stay off-line for 72 hours. I feel like I have no idea what's going on in the world. Ahhh... But my time has been well spent... In fact... I have a tale...

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Section 8 and the Infestation

Whew... I think it's about time for another laugh. I was gonna post on Girls Jobs today, but man... If L and the gang got pissed about me saying that women are happier when Men are mowing the lawn for them, imagine how pissed off their gonna be when I point out that number 1 responsibilty of a wife is to seek Christ, and the number 2 responsiblity is to support her husband! HSSSSSSS! HSSSSS! Watch for the claws boys!

So anyway... on to the tale. First of all it should be pointed out that a certain breed of child, both boy and girl, is simply born without fear. My dear mom was lucky enough to birth 3 of those. This is the tale of what happens when one of those kids meets the infestation of a lifetime... But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Now in the early to mid-eighties HUD ran a program called Section-8. The idea was that they would take families out of the projects, and give them houses in middle class neighborhoods, and pay their rent for them. Because you know... if you expose them to people who work and are productive... they will then become productive. Brilliant!

Normally this is where I would stop and rip that premise to shreds, but the tale does it better than I ever could... so allow me to continue...

Our neighbors moved out, and put their house into this maddness. Soon there-after a family from the projects was moved in. Predictably, nothing about them changed. They would have drunken parties in the yard at all hours... They slept till 12, the baby was never in clothes... just a diaper... now that I think about it... none of the rest of them were in clothes much either.

I remembe laying in bed hearing the "mom and dad" yelling and fighting about who was gonna walk down the street to buy cigarettes. One night in particular I heard something that has stuck with me, and always will... the skank walked up to her 'husband' and demanded he go get cigarettes.

"I ain't do it. Walk your fat ass down there and get'em yourself... and grab some beer too."

And then the line that will scar my mind for all my days...

"Fine.... I'm goin'... but I ain't gonna let you piss on me tonight."

GAH! What did I just hear? WHAT? NO NO NO NO! I didn't just hear that....

"Dammit woman.. hold on now... I'll go... shit..."

Now an 8 year old boy has no business being exposed to something like that. The effects are not good. I had hoped to convince myself that they were joking, but sadly over the months I heard numerous conversations that proved that... watersports... were big in their lives.

Well... things got worse and worse over there... Cops were showing up one night out of three, until finally the social workers came by and told us they had moved them out.

I guess the house had been setting empty for a couple days... when a white man knocked on our door. Now understand... I don't mean caucasion... though he was.. I mean... dude was white. Like he'd just seen a corpe dance a gig. This cat stuttered and stammered, and somehow managed to ask to use our phone.

He was an exterminator of some kind and he needed to call his boss. His side of the conversation went something like this:

"Harold? yeah it's Mark... Harold, I ain't goin' in that attic.... Kiss my ass Harold... Fire me then... I ain't doin' it... Look Harold I've been doin this 10 years, and I aint never seen anything this bad, now you want me to bomb it from outside? Fine. Fine. Ok. I'll get it handled."

Now I don't know what scares the Orkin Man so bad that he won't go inside, but... You can bet your ass that I wanted to see it. The Orkin man propped the front door open, and threw about 6 bombs in, then just left.

As you can imagine... I was way to curious to see what all this was about. I mean.. for all I knew there was a 16 foot monster roach in there... and of course.. if there was, By God I was gonna go in there and kill it!

So the next day, I got suited up. I put on my one piece snow-skiing bib, workboots, gloves, skimask.... I was set. Mom was crackin' up about this, but hell... she wanted to know what was in there too. So off I went.

I opened the front door about 8 roaches fell down off the door frame. The walls were covered with them. I mean... millions. When I stepped on the carpet I could hear them crushing beneath it. The ceiling had so many roaches, they were periodicly falling off. I ain't never seen ANYTHING like this. I decided the kitchen would be the worst spot, so that's where I headed.

Y'all... I couldn't find the sink. The counters were so crowded with roaches, that the sick was invisible... it must've been full... I opened the cabinets, to find the same deal. Roaches... everywhere.

Well I made it outta there... got home stripped off all my gear on the front porch and spent the next 20 minutes convincing my mom not to burn it.

The house had to be condemned, doctors later told us that an infestation at a fraction of that level will often leave the family membes with roach eggs in every available orifice. The family that put the house into Section 8 got screwed with all kinds of bills, and the govenment had wasted several thousand dollars...

That was my first exposure to the law of unintended consequences and liberal stupidity... What a way to get your eyes opened huh?

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

From the Comments

First of all I have to congratulate the girl on having the cajones to step up to the plate. This is a nasty pond for a small fish to swim in. In truth this is among the most well read group I've ever been around. I can destroy practically everyone I meet in open debate, but there Res Ispa, Bill, and others have gone toe to toe with me and given as good or better than they got. I just hope Linnette realizes what she's signed up for by accepting the label "feminist".

She comments: I find it disturbing that nate has asserted that my world view is "ignorant" based on "farcicle ideals [i] hold, despite obvious conflict with observable reality."

i find it disturbing that res ipsa has asserted that i am "utterly ignorant."

i find it disturbing that bill has asserted that it would be tough for me to keep my mouth shut or to look pretty.

Let's first deal with what I said. From what you wrote, I gleaned that you are a femininst. Since you accepted that label, then I don't lose any points there. So now we're not talking about you any more darlin', we're talking about feminism. Now if you were not in fact a feminist, you may have had me by the short-hairs... No such luck though... Do I get to be disturbed by your accusing me of being a Male Chauvenist? Ha! I don't think you get to be a house-wife and a Male Chauvenist at the same time buddy.

As I said, feminists are ignorant. Feminist assert that physically and mentally women and men are equal. This is in total conflict with observable reality. Let me give you a quote from an Icon of the feminist movement, so you know with whom you stand:

"No woman should be authorized to stay at home to raise her children. Society should be totally different. Women should not have that choice, precisely because if there is such a choice, too many women will make that one."
-Simone de Beauvoir

As you can see, feminism has nothing to do with basic property rights or protection under the law. Feminism is about hate. It's a system born of ignorance because its a system that is based not on though, but on emotion.

Be warned. In your crowd, the "This is what I feel to be true, so this is my reality." will work. It won't however work here. If you make an assertion, you better be ready to back it up, because you can bet your pretty little butt that someone here will cut it to shreds if you are not. Our famed resident reformed-exfeminist Sarah is probably chomping at the bit to explain just exactly why we have such contempt for feminist, and why we are correct...

But good on ya Darlin' for showing up. And by the way, Shawn is a buddy of mine... He may look like a freak, but Vox does too. Remember kids, shawn and Linette aren't used to this sort of thing. No post-modern is.

Oh yeah.. and linnette.. Don't worry about Bill implying you were ugly. It may not be true, but it's certainly a reasonable assumption considering... after all.. feminism was started of, by and, for ugly women. But I already dealt with that.


In response to my thoughts on women L writes:holy have got to be kidding me. have i stepped back into some kind of alternate bizzarro world where people actually assert things like "women want men to make decisions for them" and "women are confounded by machines" and "women don't ever want a man to show insecurity"?

gee...i would LOVE to live a life where i just sit in the corner with my mouth shut, try to look as pretty as i can, and wait for the almighty male figure to tell me what i ought to think and do. i'd hate for him to admit that he is - in fact - human. nope...i'd rather him pretend to be a superhero. i like lies.

such stuff perpetuates a world of stereotype, illusion, and false reality. do we really need to continue to put each other down and act like it makes our lives SOOOO difficult? have we not yet reached a place where we can try to communicate and learn from the differences that do exist?

I just knew you kids would love reading her thoughts as much as I did. I must say it's one of the funniest things I've posted in a while...
Post-Modernism and The Third Great Expansion of Islam

OK... Don't get me wrong here y'all.. I'm not trying to raise the level here. But sometimes I put things more plainly than Vox does, and sometimes it's easier to understand. It's not because I'm smarter than Vox mind you, it's more likely the other way around...

So what is Post-Modernism... Well honestly no one knows, but they are having meetings all over trying to figure that out. They may not know what the movement is about, but, I'll be glad to explain it for them.

Post-modernism is a movement that blends perception and reality. There is more than one reality, to post-moderns, and therefore multiple truths. Like it or not, the movement boils down to: "I'm right, Your right, Kum bah-yah". In its own words, the movement rejects extreme faith in any belief system.

Now remember that Post-modernism is apparently rearing its pretty little head at a time when Islam is now well into it's third great wave of expansion. This wave began in Kashmir and has continued on until now throughout the world the Nation of Islam is involved in no less than 30 wars. As of today, the west is not involved in that war. We've been attacked, but we have not yet struck back. What is going on in Iraq is damned to failure. There are three seperate cultures in Iraq, and they will never live together happily in one nation. Staying 10 to 15 years and succeeding is just not going to happen. We can stay there 50 years, and the day we leave, Jihad will declare it a victory. Islam is at war with the West. The West... so far... has been unwilling to fight that war.

It's disturbing to me to watch post-modernism, a movement based on wishy-washy invertebrate thinking, wash through Christianity while the right arm of Islam is raising its bloody sword for the third time. Twice now the Christian West has beaten Islam back. Will we have the guts to beat them back again? Or will we talk about perception and sing, "Imagine", while they cut our throats? Each time our leaders claim that Islam is a religion of peace, we take another step backward.


An early femin-nazi once said something to the affect of "Women must not be allowed to be stay at home wives, because if given the choice, to many will do so." That's a paraphrase... but I very much need to find the real thing and who said it. Vox used it once, but believe it or not, I don't have time to look. If anyone knows off the top of her head, Sarah, please help. Thanks y'all.

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Women: Episode III

So why do women cheat?

Nothing kills a man like cuckholding. A wife who cheats on her husband has de-manned him. Ahhh... but boys.. if you've been cut.. I suggest you move on... because I'm fixing to poor some salt into that wound.

Find me a woman with a jealous husband, and I'll show you a woman who either already has cheated on him, or very soon will cheat on him. By the way, this is not a chicken and the egg deal. Jealous men are jealous by their very nature. They are insecure, and as I said before, few things are as repugnant to a woman as an insecure man.

When you show jealousy, you expose your insecurities, and this is someting akin to wiping A1 sauce all over your neck and going to visit the local pitbull.

Boys women are security based. They want to know you're strong. How do you find out if something is strong? You test it. This is the cuckholding instinct that JAC4 talked about. When she starts that sort of thing, you need to know what she's doing and why, and respond appropriately. Her job as a wife is to build you up, and strengthen you, but like anything else, she's going to test the progress every so often. When your woman starts talking about another guy being hot, you should never act like it bothers you, esspecially if it does. The best thing to do is to laugh and make a joke out of it. "Ya like him do ya? He make ya think things?" At that point you've shown no fear, and thus she's happy and will go on about her business. Making some comment about killing the guy may seem like a good idea, and women will even laugh about that like it's cool for a while. They do like to know they are valuable, but eventually they'll see it for what it is, which is insecurity, and then you're back to the pitbull again.

I'm not saying this tsting is a desirable trait mind you. Frankly, it's annoying as hell, and you're best bet is to find a woman who does this the least.

So why do women cheat? Simple. You became either so unnatractive through showing your insecurity, or you consistantly failed to meet her Undivided Attention Quota. What's that?

I haven't addressed the Undivided Attention Quota? Well shit...

It's like this... Every woman in the world has a meter. Think of the meter as being divided into thirds. To the left is 0-33 and it's red. There is a green section in the middle with 34 to 66,and another red section from 67 to 100 on the right. There is a needle that needs to be kept in the green at all times. If it goes to far left, you aren't giving her enough undivided attention. If it goes to far right, you are getting on her nerves by being around to much and invading her personal space.

Every girl has one of these. The important thing is to figure out where the green is for her. Some girls are way low maintenence and have a very low undevided attention quota. Other girls are the opposite. Sure as anything though... if you consistantly fail to meet the quota... she will make your life miserable.

Of course... all of this is assuming you didn't just pick out some whore... which in the case of cheating women... is always a possibilty. Nothing here excuses the behavior, it just shows the underlying motivation. It's not your fault that she cheated on you. She's still responsible for her actions... but it was probably your dumb ass that lead her to do it.

Women: Episode II

In every marriage there is an enormous list of tasks, devided into two columns; Girl Jobs, and Boy Jobs. It's important to remember though, that each item on the list must be tended to, so if it's a boy job, and you don't get it done, then she has to do it. Now there are to many jobs to list individually. The best thing to do is to understand what constitutes a Boy Job, so when one comes up, you can recognize it, and handle it.

Let's start with some basic concepts, in no particular order mind you:

1) Women are confounded by machines. Machines are magic to them. It either works, or it doesn't work, and why or how means nothing to them, they just want it to work, and they need to be as simple as possible. So what can we deduce here? Anything that involves power tools is a boy's job. Anything that involves a machine that's finicky is a boys job. If the machine has a choke, she doesn't want to fool with it. If the machine involves more than two operations to start it, she doesn't want to fool with it. So.. specifically then: The car is a boy's job. The lawnmower, the weed-eater, the recipricating saw, the chainsaw, the computer, the furnace and the toilet, and anything involving their maintenence or use, is your job. Note: not maintainence AND use, maintainance OR use... it can be both, but not always. The girl wants to be able to use the car and the toilet, she just doesn't want to fix them when they break, or do anything to keep them from breaking.

2) Threats. We're the Lions boys. Anything that is a threat, real or percieved, is a boy's job. If she's scared of it, or worried about it, you better bet your ass you will be expected to deal with it. Rats, Roaches, Mice, Snakes, Birds, Rapists, Mormon's at the door, Spiders, Fire, Flood, Angry Dogs, or Rabid Feminists if it scares her or the kids, you have to kill it, or chase it away. Any measures taken to prevent these types of things from happening or coming around are also up to the Boy's.

3) Feats of Strength or Dexterity: We're faster, Stronger, and Tougher. So anything that requires strenth is our job. It's true that women often have a better since of balance than we do, but we're the ones built to take a fall. This should be self-explanitory. If you are calling your wife to open a particularly stuborn jar, then you are hopeless, your wife is cheating on you, and you deserve it.

4) Providing for the Family: This isnt an issue when times are good. This isn't about getting rich, it's about basic security. Someone has to bring food to the table, and the ultimate responsibility for that is the man's. Now, if you were smart enough to marry a doctor and retire at 29 like I did, then good on ya. But, that doesn't relieve you of your responsibility. You see, if the shit hits the fan, and she can't get a job, it's ultimately up to ME to go get the food. I either better be able to grow it, or kill it, or be willing to do the lowest form of hard labor imaginable, if it's necessary to provide for our family. It's fine if she has a job... but if things run short, its up to the boy to make it right.

5) Responsibility: Any ultra-huge decision is ultimatly the boy's job. This isn't because we're smarter, it's again, because she doesn't want it. If she has it, it's because you mistakenly let her take it from you, when she really didn't want to take it in the first place. When you're about to climb a rope, you'll jerk on it once or twice. Not because you want it to fall down, but because you are making sure its strong enough to hold you.

Yes. I am well aware that we have not yet covered girl's jobs. I'm not writing this so women can understand men though am I? I may cover girl's jobs next... or I may go on to something else... I will eventually get to it though.

I get so sick of hearing men talk about the mysteries of women, as if the creatures are some confounding puzzle, placed here by God to teach men the lesson that some things are beyond our comprehension. So, I'm now going to snatch you up by the short-hairs, and drag you out of the Cave kicking and screaming.

There is an aweful lot of explaining to do here, so expect this to be post number 1 in a series on chicks, and why they are far more easily understood than you think they are. Before we get started, I want to make something very clear. I'm going to be applying basic rules and principalities to shine light on these so called mysteries. Now... I would very much appreciate it if we keep the "exception" comments to a minimum. It irritates me to no end. It's the intelectual equivilent of arguing that since one firecracker failed to explode when the fuse burned down, that fire doesn't actually ignite gunpowder.

So yes. I'm quite sure that YOUR wife is totally independent, and she never see's insecurity in you as weakness. I'm also quite sure that there are female softball players that are not lesbians, and someone will in fact win the lottery. Coinsidentally, that lottery winner will have overcome the same odds as your wife, and the softball player.

It's not fire's fault you found a firecracker with a wet fuse.

So lets first deal with the big one; security.

Most men think women are indecisive, and just plain don't know what they want. The men then become frustrated because, "She doesn't know what she wants, but she expects me too?" Yeah. Because listen up ya pansy, she DOES know what she wants. She wants you to grow a pair of balls and make a decision, and preferably one that she doesn't have to put that much thought into.

It all breaks down like this; women want to feel taken care of. They are happier when there is one less thing they have to worry about. So, when you two start to debate what you want to eat, guess what genius... no matter what conclusion you come to, most of the time you are still going to look like a chump to her. That is NOT one less thing she has to worry about. She's happiest when you already have a plan. Is the plan subject to change? Absolutely. Chicks dig flexibilty. What they want, is for you to say, "Hey, I heard about this great new place for this-or-that." or even, "Dinner will be ready in about 8 minutes. I have to go flip the steaks."

Women will only balk at your plans if they have a reason to do so. Like if they are feeling a little queesy already and you suggest the greasiest food in town. When you then take them off to some place and get them a salad, you look like you've fixed a problem to them. You've taken care of them. Now of course, sometimes women like to get to make the plan themselves. But if they wanted to have to do it all the time, they'd be softball players.

There is a list of responsibilities that you have as a man. Most of them relate to this one need of her's to feel taken care of. That list... will be provided later today, in episode two.

Sunday, May 23, 2004

Avoid the Demon Bush

Now by now y'all have probably figgered out that I am one of those guys that things just happen to. I do admit though, that sometimes, I have gone lookin' for those things. Well this yarn I'm about to unfold is one of those times. Now I ain't never seen no queen in her damned undies, but after this... I can say that I've seen somthin' everbit as stupifying as that, so I can die knowing the Good Lord didn't jip me.

I was about 10 or 11 or so, and we lived in this small town where, pretty much nothin' ever happened. Well... when you're young and bored, sometimes you hear rumors that you just have to investigate. This of course is also where the old line about curiousity and a cat gets its teeth!

So anyway in our little town there was only one, "holy roller" church, Good Sheppard, they called it. Now I had always gone to the staunch straight laced UMC where you didn't dare cough, so the rumors I was hearin' about this church were.... a little unbelievable.

Well, being young and ignorant, my friend and I decided to check it out one day. We dressed up, but not to much, and head on over there just in time for the service. We found a seat on the back row, and settled in for the show. Now I admit, what we were doing was foolish, and disrespectful, but hey... we were just dumb kids.

Anyway... they hollered and wailed and danced and shouted for the better part of two hours, and me and my friend had just about had enough. It had gone from being freaky, to funny, and now it was gettin' a little creepy.

The preacher was talkin about demons and the presence of demon right there in the church. Before I know it... one of the women in the congregation commenses to shakin' and such. She was floppin' around and gruntin' and what not, and I'll be honest, I was late for the door. Problem was, my heart was willing, but my feet were to damned scared to move.

Well the next thing I know a few people help this woman up to the alter, where the preacher starts talkin about an excorsism. Oh hell.... here we go.... Now the Preacher's hollerin' and shakin water on the woman, and she's screamin', and everyone in the congregation is standin' up shouting this and that.... everyone cept me and my friend... We're sayin a-WHOLE-nuther kind of prayer.

Even so i couldn't take my eyes off the car wreck up at the alter. Believe me when I say that I understand what morbid curiousity is. Things had worked themselves into a real fever pitch up there. The preacher had his hand on the woman's forehead and he was shouting, "Save Thy Servant Lord!" then the next thing I know... it happened...

Someone slid a bucket under that poor woman... and she pissed right there into it in front of God and everbody!

Did you read that? She pissed in a bucket. A bucket. Pissed right in it. When she was... done... she started to collapse but some men caught her and laid her on the front pew, while the women carried the bucket outside and threw it on the bushes. From the talk and the preacher's instant replay we learned that she had pee'd out the demon.

Of course by now the only thought goin through my head was... How'd that woman know not to wear panties today? Apparently this was not an uncommon experience at that church... and I can tell ya one thing.. on my way out I gave them bushes a wide birth. Ain't no tellin' how many demon's was fertilizin' them things.

What does that make you think? It doesn't make you think at all does it? It makes you feel. You're probably uncomfortable. You may even be wanting to look around and make sure no one sees you reading something that has that word as the headline.

Websters partly "defines" the word this way: The most offensive word in the English language.
Now first of all that ain't even a definition. It's a description, and it's the only word in the whole damned yankee dictionary that is described, instead of defined.

The modern PC movement is an exercise in futility. For example... You just can't call anyone a retard, or a mongoloid anymore. Now you have to say, "Mentally Challenged". See we had to stop using those other words, because they developed a negative conotation. The funny thing is though... Ever noticed that the jokes haven't changed? Its just that now, instead of calling someone a mongoloid when they do something stupid, we pat them on the back and say, "You must be mentally challenged." Same thing. In the end, what ever we use as a substitute for retard, or mongoloid, will be associated with 'dumb'. Why? Because language doesn't change reality.

It's funny that for a long time... nearly 130 years... black folks were happy with the term, "negro". But then they found that it needed changing. Coincidentally this happened not long after the divorce rate, and unwed-mother rate in the black community began to sky-rocket. So they went from negro, to black, to colored, to person of color, to black, and now to African-American. Each time they would have to change it, because the word would develope some negative conotation. In the end... It's fultile. Language cannot alter reality. Reality is, that blacks commit a disporpotionate amount of crime in this country (11% of the population - 30% of the crime: FBI). They are also more poorly educated. Studies have shown the average black high school graduate read at level comparable to a white 8th grader.

So why was "negro" ok for so long? Simple. Blacks were secure with who they were. They were a moral, noble race, that was looked on positively in general in the South. One of the largest problems blacks faced during the occupation and indoctrination of the CSA, was that yankee soldiers were lead to believe that they were immoral, and stupid like animals. When faced with a moral, and incredibily religous black reality, they often resorted to force. I quote "A soul looks back", writtin in 1910 by a former slave:

"When the yankee soldier came to a house, first they would rape the field girls. Then they would rape the missy girls. Then they would get drunk. Then they would rape the white women."

Now the problem with 'Nigger' is the emotional reaction it causes. There are some serious pavlovian influences here. I say, "Nigger", and some black kid does something stupid. He takes a swing, and then I press charges, and he goes to jail. For the rest of his life, he checks 'yes' on his employment applications. Me? I got a sore jaw that will feel better tomarrow.

Obviously this is something that I do not condone, do not feel, and do not do. However, others do. Others will use this word to make a kid do something that will scew up his whole life, out of pure damned meaness.

Its insane to assign that kind of power to a word. It's the equivilent of loading a gun and handing it to your worst enemy. The word means 'black'. That's all. Getting yourself thrown in jail over some racist stating the obvious is insane. Next time... Laugh at him.
I'm Pissed

I just typed up a 1000 word post... only to have blogger lose it. I'm takin the rest of the day off. It was damned good too.. ARGHH!!!!!

Saturday, May 22, 2004

This is my daughter "Barbie"

I take Jeb to the mall during the day, several times a week. There's a play area there for little ones and he gets to romp and holler and play with other kids. It's good for him.

When I'm not playing with jeb, I people watch. The thing that I've been paying attention to lately is how rare it is to see a little girl dressed her age. I see 4 and 5 year old little girls dressed in baby-doll t-shirts, showing their midrift.. with low cut jeans. Who the hell makes low-rider jeans for 5 year olds???

I see little girls with makeup, multiple earings, and the latest 'friends' haircuts.

It's sickening. Mom's have replaced thier dolls with children, and they're playing with them, the exact same way.

Friday, May 21, 2004

The Mountain Fortress

The plans are developing nicely. I'm not going into a lot of detail but I thought I would share some of the underlying concerns, and what sort of factors are used in determining materials and design...

First of all I should point out that I've paid particular attention to every stand-off from WACO to Ruby Ridge to Klammath Falls. I can tell you that there are things every one has in common, and there are very basic tactics that you have to prepare for.

First of all your fortress needs to be incredibily fire resistant. Burning is the favorite option of the government. A lot of evidence is destroyed, and they can always get their people to claim it was set by the occupants.

Any fortress is useless if it isn't largely self-sufficient. You need a secure deep-well, and alternative heat sources. Alternative power is something to have, but you should always assume you are going to lose it.

There should be 1 heavily defended entrance. Blastdoors are recomended.

There should also be a means of escape. Now this is tricky... because any way you can get out, they can get in. So this has to be something you added yourself, outside the standard plans. If you add this, you tell NO ONE about it. Idealy it would provide access to a route that could get you a long way away, without being noticed. Water is great for this.

I've seen people suggest building a home on an island in a river, and then stashing some getaway vehicles somewhere along the river a few miles away.

Not a bad idea... but I've been planning this for years... and I can assure you... mine is far more advanced.

Thursday, May 20, 2004


Now that i think about it... having a son will change your attitude about your daughters dating... Even as I was typing up my "plan" to deal with the first boy that came around... I started thinking about Jeb. Thinking about how I would feel if someone treated him the way we were talking about treating these kids. In truth... It's been my experience that little boys are FAR sweeter than little girls. Girls Jeb's age are just selfish, self-centered, and generally mean. In my whole life I may have met two or three that weren't. Jeb doesn't do anything for attention, but I've never met a little girl who didn't. He doesn't cry to put on a show, but every little girl I've ever been around does. He doesn't take things from other kids. He loves on his mom, and he wrestles with me. He's gentle with animals and other kids. He doesn't mind sharing at all. He offers his toys to other kids a lot. He even gives them his snacks.

In short.. every little girl I've ever been around was pretty much the opposite of Jeb. They take things from him, and scream and cry if he has the audacity to even play with his own toys around them. They fall down, then look around to make sure everone is looking, then they scream and cry. One time Jeb fell down on a concrete patio. A friend of ours saw him fall and said, "Brush it off buddy!" Jeb looked at him... then wiped off the patio. Then went about his business.

Hrmmm... I know how I would've reacted if someone had treated me the way we've talked. I would've told him my intentions from the begining. I would've loved to go to the range and shoot, but the moment someone brought a shovel out and told me to dig, I'da told him to kiss my white ass, and been on my way. I'll tell ya now what I'll tell Jeb about courtin'. I'll tell him to address the girl and her family with respect, like he would any other adult. I'll also tell him to ask the girl's daddy to talk to him privately before they leave, just to thank him for trusting him with something precious, and to explain his intentions. If after that, if he is challenged or threatened... He should thank them for their time, and come home.

The more I think of it.. The more I figure.. You all should pray to God almighty that a kid like Jeb knocks on your door, and by God when he does, you better welcome him with open arms... Because I can guaran-damn-tee his old man will choke you to death with your intestines if you so much as pluck a hair outta that boy's head... and that's a fact.
First Dates...

Spacebunny wonders what I plan on letting my daughters date...

First let me state that I am not going to have blanket rules for my kids. I will have a system that rewards responsibility. The more responsible the kid is, the more freedom he or she will earn. It sounds odd to read that I'm sure. Perhaps it's easier if I give an example...

Girl A has always done well in school, never lies, is always home when she says she's gonna be home, and always calls to let us know if there is some problem and she may be late...

Girl B says she's going to place X, but frequently goes to place Y instead without calling to check in and tell us. She is sometimes late for no reason and no call. She hangs out with friends we distrust.

Girl A will get to date far younger than Girl B will. As of today, the plan is, girl A would be allowed to date when she's a sophomore in HS... or 15 or 16 years old. Girl B may never get to date.

The girls would be allowed to go out with coed groups of friends before this obviously.

The general rule of thumb will be... Tell us where your going, whom you are going with, who is going to be there, and when you will be back... then do what you say you are going to do... and if plans change, give us a quick call to let us know what's up.

If the kids live by these rules... they will be able to pretty much do as they please.

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

Tragedy at the Car Lot

You should understand that I am a car guy. I love the muscle cars and 4x4's and trucks with loads of torque. But of all the 4-wheeled vehicles in the world, it's the Corvette that holds the most prized place in my heart.

Now every so often a corvette anniversary comes around. Sometimes Chevy make a big deal, and sometime they don't. The 35th anniversery, 1988, was a big deal. The Special Edition Vette was all white. White wheels, white leather interior... She was gorgeous. She had a hotter engine than the standard 88 vette, and she came with the super-bad 4+3 tranny. This my friends... was a car to die for.

Now in all the world... there were only two 35th anniversery corvettes that got sent to Mr Callaway for his twin-turbo treatement. This tale that I'm about to unfold is how there got to be... only one of them.

So John had just got his twin-turbo 35th anniversery vette. I don't know for a fact that his name was John... but it's easier to tear your heart out over John's loss, than it is for anonymous victim. So anyway... John had just got his vette. There was only one other like it, in the whole damned world, and girls... This was a car that knocked drool right out of guy's mouths and blew women's skirts up as they walked by. It was that bad.

John was lovin his badass vette. He treated it right. He loved it. The car never saw the rain. It was treated like the precious child it was. Well... I don't know all this either.. but it's reasonable to assume... and it makes the story better.. so shutup.

Anyway... One day John notices that the passenger window won't roll down. It's sticking. Well that won't do! So, he takes his baby and drops her off at the dealer, to get the window fixed.

John returned to the deal a week later and picked up his vette, and they lived happily ever after.

Sadly that's not at all how the story ends, but it makes me feel better to type it that way just once. This is what really happened...

The dealer fixed the window. Then one of their lot boys was called to move the car out of the garage. He did. He parked the car where it would wait for its owner to come pick it up. Cept after about an hour the kid decided he wanted to take it around a little bit.... just in the parking lot to show off some. So he lied to the clerk, and got the keys. Then he proceeds to take one of only two of the baddest vettes in the world at the time, and thrash it around the back parking lot.

of course.. there is a reason God doesn't let 17 year old kids make enough money to buy 700 horsepower cars. Because 17 year old kids total them. The details are sketchy... but the part that is known is that the car was flipped, and utterly destroyed. For what? Why was this work of genius and art destroyed? For some idiot kid's jollies? The kid wasn't hurt... and there is no evidence that John ever killed him. But I for one wouldn't have convicted John if he'd blown that little bastard's head off right there on the spot. We call it the, "He Needed Killin' Defense".

Anyway.. the dealer ended up giving John a brand new 1989 ZR-1 for free. Which is fine, except that there were ZR-1's all over the place... and now.. there is only 1 35th anniversery Callaway Twin Turbo....

Typing this story... makes me thank God for bourbon.
The Hazards of Fatherhood

The Big Brained Astrosmith comments: You know, we got caught up in these stories, and I forgot my comment about how I am dreading when my daughters get to this age. I can already tell that both my girls are going to be babes. I'm going to have to be well-armed by then to keep the boys out.

I've given this matter much thought. It's inevitable that I am going to have a daughter, since I aim to have an enormous family. Given that... I better have a plan on dealing with the boys coming around. Well... Here are the two plans so far:

Plan A: Arranged Marriage at age 14. I figure DrWho and I will pick out some nice boy who was raised right, and hitch'em up, thus avoiding this whole mess.

Plan B: If plan A, falls through... I figure... the average sentence for murder 1 is 20 years, and you usually serve 20% of your sentece. That means a lot of murderers are out in 4 years. That's nothing. So.. the first little boy that comes around... and I figger this will be sometime around the 8th grade... I'll kill him with a knife, and make sure to leave a mess all over the front porch. I don't think I'll have to worry about any more of the little bastards coming around... and hey... I'll be out in time for graduation.
From the Comments

Nighthawk writes: Since I have a daughter who is almost missionary age, and a son who will most likely go on a mission in about a year, I would then ask, "Is this the way YOU want YOUR daughter or son treated?"

Considering that I find this practice to be counter-productive, I would never send my kids off to participate in it. Knocking on doors just irritates people, and invariably leaves them with a worse opinion of your cause than they started with.

If however I cared so litte for my son's safety, and my church's cause, that I chose to send him off, I would at least send him off prepared. I would inform him that this type of thing is going to happen, and that probably, much worse is going to happen.

I have nothing to apologies for. I didn't threaten these women. I didn't insult them personally. I challenged their faith, and when you knock on someone's door to expose them to your faith, you better be prepared to have that faith challenged in the most extreme terms. If you can't handle that, then you better not be knocking on doors.

I pray that this type of thing is the worst that Christian Missionaries deal with.
From the Comments

Jeanne says: I am so excited to be part of a harem! I can't wait to tell my husband!

I don't laugh out loud often but I did when I read that. But hey... I'm not really suprised that Jeanne and Tonya are happy to be here. Deep down, almost all of them wanna play "Egyptian Slave Girls".
Embarassing a 16 year old girl: 101

I've always had a special place in my heart for Joy. I met her when I first started dating Julie, and back then Joy was just a skinny little 14 year old girl who was way to sheltered. Joy is the youngest of the infamous 4 sisters, and since have two older brothers, I sympathized with her. The girls could be pretty mean sometimes, and that's not to say Joy didn't deserve some of it. She developed a fondness for irritating them.

Anyway Joy and I hit it off immediately. Mostly because she would try to irritate me, and I would be patient with her. We were buddies in no time. I have to admit I had an advantage though. Joy had always looked up to Julie, and that kinda made me the big brother she didn't have.

Fast forward a couple years. Julie and I are now in college together, and Joy is now 16. For those who live on another planet, there is a HUGE difference between a 14 year old girl, and a 16 year old girl. By now, I'm starting to go from the "big brother she likes to pick at" to "The big brother she likes to firt with". Julie never minded, in fact, she still doesn't. If anything, she encourages it. It's funny though, it got to the point where the oldest sister Jill, actually forbade Joy to flirt with her boyfriend / soon-to-be-husband. Silly huh?

Anyway so all this is background. The main story takes place at my parents condo when we were in college, and Joy was 16. Now it had been a while since I had seen Joy, and well... she had ummm... Grown up... quite a bit... You can imagine the things going on in a 16 year old girl's head in that situation.

Most of this is a haze... All I remember is... Not long after Joy got there... The three of us were talking... and where only Joy and I could hear, Julie says...

"Look! Joy got boobies!"

And that boys and girls, is what Joy calls the most humiliating experience of her life. I dunno why though. Oh I'm sure it had something to do with the two of us looking and then commenting on how nice they were or something...

Doesn't make much sense to me though... I mean.. She seems fairly proud of them now!

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Fun with Mormons

*** Disclaimer *** This is where a lesser man would say, "I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings ect ect..." Whatever. I figure, if you are minding your own business, and someone randomly mocks your faith, then you have a gripe, but if your faith sends folks around harassing people in the middle of the day, then you got it coming. If you are a mormon, and this is offensive, then you must have wanted to be offended, so I don't give a damn. After all, if you didn't want to get offended, you wouldn't have read it.

So it's monday. Julie's off at work... It's like 4:30 or so. Jeb woke about a hour ago, and he's runnin' around with his train. I'm sittin' in the rockin chair, listenin' to George Straight and wonderin' just what I was gonna post to follow up that eyeliner story...

Knock Knock Knock.

Door? Hrmm.. Who could that be...

HEY! I'll be damned! Ask and you shall recieve! It's the Mormons!

Three fine lookin' young women, looking very respectible in their flowered dresses. How cute.

Now I don't mess around with these people. They start in with their practiced closed questions and the first thing I do is break the pattern.

I wanted to shake them up before we got started so I went inside, grabbed Jeb, and a corona, and came back out to the front porch. I plopped down on the swing, and while Jeb started playin'.

One of the ladies said, "Ummm sir..."

"Aw! I'm sorry girls. I really am! That's just rude as hell, can I get you a beer too? No? It sure is hot... well suit yourself... So lets start with these tablets."

They were all still shocked that I had offered them a beer, but the short blonde in the gang pulled herself together enough to say, "You know about the tablets?"

I looked at her and started smiling. Then I chuckled a little and took a drink. "Well sure! I tell ya, old Joe must've been important though... I mean... Moses just got rock tablets. Joe rated Gold! Must've been some good stuff written on them tablets too... I mean if rock is good enough for the 10 commandments, what do you put on gold? Say what ever happened to those things?"

The oldest girl, spoke up then, "The lord recalled the tablets and.."

"Recalled them? Like they were defective? This don't make any sense to me. Moses got to keep his. I mean... Did Mr Young see these tablets? Did anyone see them? Moses didn't have tablets when he went up to the mountain, but when he came down, he had something to prove that some crazy voodoo mess went down up there, he had the stone tablets. I mean you don't start tellin' people you talked to a burnin' bush without some kinda proof. The Jews even got this special box to carry their tablets around in... Y'all got a special box?"

That came out rapid fire, and you can imagine the effect. There was some stammering, and I figgered if I had them on the ropes I may as well throw a haymaker.

"Y'all don't seem to know much about your religion. Say... are you girls wearing your holy underwear?"

Now we've got three red faces.

"Oh come on ladies.. don't be embarrassed, it's just like my son wears, sept no body said no prayer over his."

So the oldest one of the bunch made a comment about the cool motorcycle in the front yard. The equivalent of begging for mercy. She needed a break. Hey... I had plenty more ammo. Why not? so I played along and let them get back on track. They prattled off some stuff about this and that until the young blonde said, "How do you know something is true?"

Once again I smiled at her.. then laughed... then took a drink. "True? Well... First there is observable reality. I drop a rock, it falls. That means gravity is true."

Now here I was playing nice and the little wench went and interupted me. She started rambling about God offering wisdom and truth to anyone who sought it in true faith.

I smiled at her... then I laughed... then I took a drink. "Darlin' if it were that simple, we wouldn't have baptist, methodists, and catholics. Someone would've just prayed and asked, 'God, do I HAVE to be dunked or will just a sprinkle do?' and that would've been that. You're boy Joe... Was a prophet alright. You can others prophecying just like him too, in any bar in this country."

One got a little offended now. "Why don't you judge a faith by its fruit."

"Why yes ma'am. Let's see... My best friend in highschool was a mormon. In fact, he's a big cheese in your church. Judging by him, I'd say y'all ain't peddlin' fruit, you're peddlin' poison. This man was an elder in the church. He made frequent trips to the temples in atlanta and salt lake. funny though.. this prick was a flat out pervert. Hell.. one time I went to see his son, and this crazy old bastard answered the door nekkid! Have you ever seen a nude 300 pound polack? It's not pretty! Now I figure sure, every faith has bad apples, but this bad apples flourishes in your church. You ladies belong to a very young religion. The word people use to describe young religions is 'cult', and I can assure you, that word has a negative conatation for a reason."

They were wantin' to go at this point... but I figgered.. no way... you knocked on my door, and interupted my time. I'm having some fun.

"I could never be a part your sick cult. That man's wife had to work two jobs to support that family, on account of he was such a lazy good for nothing piece of crap. One job she had was a retail job, so she had to work some sundays. Now... Since she worked some sundays, she had to miss church on those days, and because she did, your cult refused to let her be present at her own son's wedding! Oh.. but the lazy pervert was there, no doubt wearing a nice new suit, that he charged on a credit card that she was bustin' her butt to pay off!"

Ok.. the girls were shook up now... but I let it go on like this for a little while longer. I continued my game with the little blonde. Every time she talked I would smile at her, then laugh, then take a drink, then rip apart what ever she said. By the end she wouldn't talk at all, and every time I looked at her she'd just look straight at her feet. hehehehe

Eventually I let them go. I had my fun. I apologiesed for being rude... but they thanked me and said, "no no.. everyone has an opinion..we enjoyed it." yeah.. I'll bet you did.

As they were about to leave I reached over and ruffled the little blonde's hair and said, "If you ever want a ride cutie, come back any time... On the motorcycle I mean."

Fall Creek Falls

I've said before that Julie and I have a way of finding trouble, and finding a way out of it. Care for another?

Way back when we were still dating, one of our favorite things to do was to travel off to some state park we'd never been to before, hike around, and just see the sites. The car rides were fun, and we would always come back with some sort of tale or another. One particular weekend, we decided to head off to Fall Creek Falls.

This is one of the biggest parks in Tennessee. The falls are huge. To call the place beautiful just doesn't do it justice. Julie and her family used to hike and camp there when she was growing up, and I had never seen it, so she was stoked about showing me around. There are two falls, and trails all around to hike between them. The trais are well marked and mostly level. You know... Boring.

After looking at the big falls for a while we decided... hey... let's go down for a closer look! And off we went. By our standards the hike down was nothing. We got down to the river, and Julie pointed out that we could follow the river down stream to the other falls. This is a geographical oddity, and I was a little skeptical esspecially since the other falls are up another river, but hey.. Why not?

So.. while all the other sane people around are walking back up to the decent trails, my girl and I start off boulder hoping down the river. After about a quarter-mile we come to the part where the two rivers intersect, and we need to cross. Now on our right was one river, with a huge oak that had been laid across it, and in front was another river. Right. We walked across the oak. Did I mention the white water below? Yeah that was fun. Anyway we made it across, and by this time we've noticed that a group of hikers is in front of us, and honestly not looking nearly as enthusiastic.

We caught up, said hi, and made our way past. Actually, I am a little partial to.. "Left them in our dust".

We continued boulder hopping for another mile or so when we realized... the waters up... and the water... is in between us, and our eventual destination... our car. Ahhh.. we'll worry about that later!

We're jumping from huge rock to huge rock, generally having the time of our lives. What a great day. Then we came to a rough bit. see... there was no more shoreline. No more boulders. There was just water, and a sheer rock wall. Well shit...

F**k it. We're cimbing it. And we did. Julie didn't even hesitate, she just grabbed an exposed tree root and started going up. She had scouted out a good path to climb with lots of holds. Before i knew it, we were both up.. and pretty impressed with our selves. We were walking around feeling like badasses... We even managed to find a way to climb down... well.. slide mostly.. but again, it was fun, and we were too young and stupid to realize we were risking our lives. Or.. no... we knew it.. we just figured we could handle it.

Anyway... more merry boulder hopping... probly another mile or so... and then we find ourselves.. well... screwed.

So now... we find ourselves assessing our situation. We're in basically a very very large bowl. There is a roundish pond of water... about 200 yards across and God knows how deep, between us and the other side of the bowl, which we have to get to if we want to get to our car. There is no way around, because of another sheer wall, that there just wasn't no climbin' around. Fine. We'll swim dammit.

Shoes off, socks off... Julie walks into the water.. After being in for less than 15 seconds, she comes running out. The water's so cold her feet are already turning blue, and she has a headache from hyperventilating. ummm... shit.

Ok.. plan B. What was plan B? Wait... we saw some boulders in the river a ways back... I'll bet we can climb them and get across that way! Yeah I know... as far as plans go, it sucked. I remembered these boulders and they were freaking HUGE. We weren't swimming though, and I wasnt gonna walk across that fallen tree in the dark. The sun was going down by now. It was time to rock and roll.

On the way back to the boulders we weren't screwing around. We were sprinting over the rocks. We're talking about huge rocks piled up all along a white water river, and we were just flying across them. Neither of us fell... Don't know how though. Either way, we made it back over the previously impressive obsitcals like they were nothing, and soon found ourselves face to face with the slackers. They hadn't even made it to the first big climb we made yet.

Anyway, we explained that the water was up, and that there was no way across up stream, and told them about our plan. The group of slackers consisted of two girls and a guy, and to be honest, the chicks were totally not looking happy. After talking to these three it was readily apparent that Julie and I were gonna be helping them get out, or they wouldn't be getting out at all.

As a group, we backtracked until we found the big rock group that we had hoped we could cross on. wow. These things were as big as I remembered. The first thing we had to do to cross, was jump to the boulder closest to the shore. About a 3 foot jump. Not a big deal... unless you missed, because those are rapids below, and damned cold water.

Everyone made it. Step two wasnt as scary. From here we just scaled over to the biggest of the rocks. She was a monster. 20 feet high at the tip. stretched way out into the river. But now... things are about to get tricky.

Down from the big rock we found a large flat platform rock. The shore was a steep hillside, but a tree had fallen down and was partially in the water. Beneathe the tree was another rock. Basically what ya had was a funnel, jamming water between two rocks. One right on the shore, and one closer to the big rock. These rocks were about 4 feet apart. From the platform, we'd have to jump to the other rock, and catch the tree to make sure we didn't fall back into the rushing water.

3 of us knew we could do this. 1 of us was scared, but she was ok to try it. And well... Number 5 was not happy.

The guy was going to go first, so Julie and I could stay behind and help the girls. I remember before he climbed off the big rock... he nodded towards number 5 and said something I'll never forget:

"That's my wife. She's very clumsy... and I love her very, very much."


So the guy makes it to shore ok. Now Julie gets onto the platform, so she and the guy can help the other two girls across. I was left to get them to the platform, and to clean up any messes. Oh fun.

Well... Girl number 1 makes it across without incident. Only nubmer 5,the clumsy wife, is left now.

After some coaxing and a lot of help, I got her to the platform and Julie started reassuring her immediately. Before I know it, the woman tries to make the jump.

I'm not sure this woman jumped 4 inches. It looked more like she fell on purpose. The water took her. The only thing that was preventing the woman from being washed down stream, was the fact that my wife is a badass. Julie had the woman's right arm with both hands and by God she was not letting go. The woman was flailing in the water. I could see her feet behind her, and her head, and that's it. Julie was trying to hold on, but she was losing it. The current was so strong the woman could basically do nothing.

I jumped down to the platform to try to do... something... Julie half jumped in the water now. Julie had both legs in the water. Facing the shore, she was straddling another rock that had previously been considered nothing but a nuisance. It was saving our asses now though. She was pulling like hell to get the woman, who was not even struggling at this point, up and out. All I could do now was grab a hold of Julie and make sure she wasnt going any where. Her husband was able to reach in and grab his wife's left arm, and we were eventually all able to pull her to the tree.

Julie and I climbed on out. The woman was freaked, and freezing, but she was ok.

So three of us had some frazzled nerves, but well... Julie and I just sorta rolled with it. Shit happens right? Julie even gave the poor woman her dry flannel shirt to keep her warm.

Now only one obstical remained. The only way up the cliff to the trail that led to the parking lot was a cable climb. Bah.. childs play. The five of us were hiking back towards the 2nd falls now, except this time we were on the right side of the water. Above us we could hear the road and traffic... traffic...

You know.. We were getting pretty sick of hiking, and it was gettin' dark. Julie and I stopped, and looked up the wall of dirt above us. When in doubt hit it with a sledgehammer. We hollered out to the slackers, "We'll see ya at the top!" and up we went. I still remember the look on that guys' face when he saw us start climbing... "ohhh shit"

By this time we just didn't care. We just did it. Before we knew it we're at the top, brushin' ourselves off and grinnin' like idiots.

We met up with the slackers in the parking lot. They stopped by to give us julie's shirt back, and thank us again. hehe.. by then... the only thing on our mind... was supper.

Monday, May 17, 2004

Check out the Blog Girls
Ok. The Blog Girls Page is up kids. Any chicks who like the blog are welcome to email me a picture. Naughty pictures are always appreciated, but they don't get posted.
Oh... that's nice.
theHubby Sends this tale in:


Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

In the early 90’s I worked for a small production
company as a graphic artist. Now, when I say small -
I mean there were two of us. Basically the other guy
(theGaffer) was self-employed and I hung around to get
my feet wet in the advertising biz.

Our landlord, a woman that thought of herself as the
female Donald Trump, owned the office (the office
complex, rather) that we rented. The office was
actually more like a storage closet at the very end of
an endless hallway right next to the bathroom.
Business was not exactly booming and as a result we
had gotten behind on the rent.

The Ogre landlord called TheGaffer at home early one
morning and informed him that the rent was late and
that she needed payment immediately. Luckily for us,
TheGaffer had just landed a big project. While
explaining this to her he said that he would run down
to the office so he could cut her a check, and he
would have it to her that afternoon. The Ogre informed
him that going to his office would be impossible. She
had locked us out of the office. Again, TheGaffer
explained that he understood about being late on the
rent and would pay whatever late fees she wanted but
in order for him to get her the check he was going to
have to get in the office. She wouldn’t budge. She
would not let us in. Even though the rent she wanted
was behind the locked door, she wouldn’t open it.
They went round and round until TheGaffer was nearly
homicidal – Actually, he was homicidal. What to do?
Not only was the rent behind the locked door, but so
was the entire business – our source of income.

So – with nothing to lose, and being a little
criminally inclined anyway, we hatched a plan. A

So here’s the plan. You see we were locked out of our
office but we were NOT locked out of the building.
Remember - our office was the storage closet next to
the bathroom. That was the beauty of the whole thing
and the very thing that would be the ogre’s undoing.

So, around 2 a.m. we set off into the night, in search
of justice. We were in my car, a late model Nissan
Sentra, gunmetal grey - the perfect get-away car. We
were armed with a flashlight and adrenaline to spare.
On our way we discussed whether or not the Ogre would
have changed the locks to the building. It would have
been a lot of trouble for her and probably not very
likely but we wouldn’t have put it passed her. We
arrived and tried the key. It opened. We were in.

The office building was one of those that’s laid out
like a maze. Only the front offices had windows so as
soon as you get passed them your only source of light
is the cheapest fluorescent lights money can buy. But
of course we didn’t turn the lights on, so we were
running down these halls blind as bats. It was pitch.
We were navigating by pure instinct and memory but
finally we had reached our destination. We were now
so far back in the bowels of the building that we
decided we could risk a little light. We found the
bathroom, flicked the light on and propped the door
open, which allowed us to see our office door.

And there it was. The LockBox.

The LockBox was a metal box that basically hung on the
doorknob and completely covered it so you couldn’t get
your key in the keyhole. We tried in vain to jimmy the
thing off but it just sort of spun around the
doorknob. It was time for phase 2 of Operation Office

We went into the bathroom. Phase 2 involved real cat
burglar work. The idea was for theGaffer to boost me
up the wall (adjacent to our office) and I was to
climb over the wall through the false ceiling. Seemed
simple enough but the actual boosting was harder than
we thought. Before it was all over I’m standing on
the Gaffer’s shoulders, while he’s trying to balance
on a trash can.

I finally was able to move the acoustic paneling and
lift myself up into the ceiling. I went forward a
couple of feet towards our office (terrified that I
would fall through the ceiling and set off an alarm or
something) and removed a ceiling tile. A pit of
darkness waited for me below. I was hesitant at first
because I wanted to be sure that this dark hole I was
about to jump into was, in fact, our office and not
some unknown part of the building. By this time
theGaffer had already been hurling a not stop stream
of hushed queries up into the ceiling. "How’s it
going?", "Can you see anything?", etc. Then I saw it.
A small glow that came from the keyboard of
theGaffer’s old Apple IIe. It was a rush – we just
might pull this off. I "whisper-yelled" down towards
the bathroom to theGaffer, "We’re in".

I was now faced with the task of jumping down into the darkness. I ended up landing on my drafting table, which conveniently was slanted and acted as a slide. The next thing I knew I was standing in our office trying to find the light switch.

TheGaffer still to this day recounts the feeling that
he got as he watched light suddenly stream out from
beneath our office door. He heard me fumbling with
the lock from the other side, and then the door
opened. At that moment he knew we had won. The Ogre
had been defeated.

We quickly started to pack up everything we needed to
run the business and realized that in order to get it
all we were going to have to make several trips (the
get-away car was a sentra, remember). Then, theGaffer
had a stroke of absolute genius.

You see, we didn’t need to get everything. In fact,
we didn’t need to get anything at all. The LockBox
was still on the door, only now the door wasn’t
locked. As long as we could turn the handle, we could
come and go as we pleased. So we gave it a try.
TheGaffer shut the office door from the outside and
then tried to open it. He found that if you pulled
the LockBox and turned it, it would turn the door
handle, and since the door had been unlocked from the
other side, it would open – no problem. This was an
unexpected bonus beyond our hopes. We could continue
to use our office for the time being and the Ogre
would never know. She would look down that long hall
and see her pretty little LockBox and think she still
had the upper hand. Of course we would have to get our
stuff out pretty soon but this bought us some time…
days… maybe even a couple of weeks. It was brilliant.

We ended up taking some things home that night – a
computer and a table that we had borrowed from someone
else. The table wouldn’t fit in the get-away car so I
hung out the passenger window and held the table next
to the car – the whole way home. Whenever I think of
that scene; a car flying down the dark streets at 3
a.m. with a guy hanging onto a table outside the car,
it makes me grin an evil grin.

Oh, what about the rent? We made her sweat it for at
least a couple more weeks.

And theGaffer? Well, after a few years our careers
went in separate directions… But, I ended up marrying
his daughter. :-)

It's not just me.

WARNING: Strong Language Below!!

It seems that I am not the only guy around who's mouth can get him into trouble. This story proves it. Before I get rollin' though, let me give ya a little background. Our hero for this tale is Curt. Y'all should remember him from my motorcycle stories. He works with my wife over at the hospital as an anesthesia resident.

Well anyway.. It had been a particularly shitty day, which in resident terms means Curt had been working about 18 hours. He's was tired, and just wanted to go the hell home. There are a few things that you have to do before you can do that though. You have to check the pre-operation reports for all the people you are gonna work on the next day, and you have to check in your drug box. These are two things that anesthesia residents tend to detest.

Another thing that curt detested in particular was this little gay OR nurse. Seriously. What is it with gay guys and the attitude? This little prick is just flaming, and what's worse, he runs his mouth. He wants everyone to know that he won't take crap off anyone. That's two snaps up in a circle, for those of you keeping track.

Well.. Like I was sayin'... It had been a bad day, and Curt just wanted to go home. He still had to check in his drug box though. The pharmacy that checks the boxes in is right inside the doors to the OR suite. We're talking 4 feet here. Curt had already takin' off his skull cap, but he would only be in there for a few seconds, so he bent the, "All heads must be covered" rule.

Of course.. who would come by but the little prick...

"Exsssssssscussssse me but you have been here long enough to know better than to come in here without a headcover."

Oh goody... Lectured by a gay male nurse... Curt gave him a discussed look and said...

"Yeah. I have. And you've been around long enough to know better than to let another man fuck you up the ass, but ya do it don't ya?"

The pharmacist had to walk away she was laughing so hard, and to this day, that little gay nurse can't look Curt in the eye.

Whenever you find someone who's overly willing to through around attitude, challenge them. Get in their face. It's so much fun to watch them piss themselves and scurry off.
Sorry Kids
I've been spending my blogging time working on the Cast of Characters page for vox's site. It's done, and up, but I'm not gonna tell anyone the addy. I'll let Vox do the honors. And don't worry yall... I've got a couple great stories to post today. Check back around 2:00 or 3:00 eastern. You won't be disappointed.

Friday, May 14, 2004

I don't drink on Wednesdays

There's a very good reason that reasonable people do not get loaded on wednesday nights. This unfortunate story, is how I learned to be a reasonable person.

Back in I guess... 1999, we were living in Memphis, while Julie was in med school. I was working at a local morgtage company, effectively running the joint.

Well, on this particular wednesday, my wife invited a couple of friends over... The infamous Patty and Doby. Now we loved these two, but one thing that you had to know abou them; They could drink.

Well we made a great feast and had a festive time with them. They brought bottle of wine, and of course, we drank it, and another, and some beer, and then we started playing taboo. Now I don't particularly care for taboo myself. In fact, I was far more interested in the Knob Creek. So much so that I downed an iced-tea glass full of it. Once I was out of whiskey, I commenced to searchin' out the tequila.

Julie didn't really mind this, except that my drunkeness was a serious impairment to our competitive gaming. My wife cannot tolerate losing at taboo. As I was to soon learn.

To give you an idea of how drunk I was, my wife took the bottle of tequila out of my hand, and placed it across the table, and then told me she had hid it from me. I wondered all over the house looking for it. Sadly, I remember that.

Things get interesting when, after I've been gone for about a half-hour, my wife decides she better go find me. Sure enough, I was right where you'd expect me to be. Curled up on the bathroom floor asleep. The last thing I remember of that night, was Doby trying to carry me to my bed. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a man carry me to bed. So I fought him off, and walked to bed like a man dammit.

The next thing I know its morning, and my head doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it should. Wait a second... somethings got me! what the hell is this crap? the covers are all tight around me! Gah!

I fought with the covers and finally took off the blue lace teddy that was... what? oh shit... Why was I wearing a blue lace teddy? And what the hell is in my hair? Oh nice.. a matching blue bow..

I pulled up the covers to find myself also wearing blue panties. Son of a bitch. So I strip all this shit off, and start to climb back in the bed where I belong, trying not to think about what must've gone on the night before, but knowing that a camera must've been invovled...


Shit. Phone.


Work. Shit.


"Hello. Yes ma'am. Are you sure you typed the password in right? ok... I know I'm late.. I'll be there soon."

Great. So I get up, put on a baseball hat, bluejeans, and a t-shirt and drive off to work. Stupid work. I get there, and find that the severe network issue that I desperately needed to solve ammounted to a mistyped password. Needless to say I was in a bad mood.

I had just sat down at my desk to start the most desperately needed cup of coffee of my entire life, when Thelma walked up behind me. Now Thelma could be your grandmother. That's the way she looks, and acts, and talks. And this sweet old woman said...

"You have a rough night lastnight Nate?"

"What would make ya say that Thelma?"

"Well... You're still wearin' the eyeliner."
Ghost Rider

Red emailed a link to a story today. It's one I'd read before. It's been making the rounds on all the motorcycle sites and news groups. I have to tell you, even if you have no interest in motorcycles at all, you need to check this out. It's not a scam. Several motojournalists have actually met this girl and verified the claims.

So grab a cold drink boys and girls, and take a ride through the deadzone. I've never known webpages to be bone chilling. But then... before this... I never saw anyone riding a motorcycle through the areas destroyed by the Chernobyl Disaster.

Don't misinterperate this though. I'm a huge proponent of nuclear power. I see Chernobyl not as a mistake of engineering... but a mistake of human stupidity. You want to know what happens when you turn off all the safety measures, then try to make the reactor go critical? It does.
Where's the Hate?

Let's face the facts. I know that judging from my comments on Vox's Blog this place would be a haven for vitriol, sarcasm, and apocalyptic prophecy. So what's with the stories?

Vox called it moral fatigue. I'm inclined to agree. For the moment... I'm bored with being pissed off. I'd rather make some folks laugh for now.

I decided a long time ago I wouldn't compete with Vox. If you all want to read about economics, markets, and the war... you know where to find it. For now, it's not here. I'll touch on those things from time to time, but for the most part, I'm just here to entertain, and to provoke the occasional thought.

For now I'm happy to use the blog as a place to hang out with my friends, both new (RJK, Spacebunny, Astro, Resispa, Bill, ect ect ect) and old (Kristy, Josh, Shawn, and Joy).

President Frogger of Beertentistan said it best...

It would make for one helluva barbeque.

So for now, I apologies for not running the most high-brow intellectual blog. Hermenuetic Standards, Austrian Economics, and Hearts and Minds will just have to wait. I'd rather have some fun.

Thursday, May 13, 2004

More fun at TTU

This is a another long story, on a day that's been filled with long stories. I figure I'll take it easy on you boys and see if I can trim this one down.

This tale begins in my second semester of college. I was a music major at TTU. I was in the drumline there, and for the most part I was hating life. I met Josh (The Jones) there, and I had some friends in from high school around, but for the most part I hated the music department. The guys were all hippy types, and the chicks were well... ugly. So as you can imagine, I was... anti-social.

I participated only when I was forced to. I went home every weekend. I was never seen hanging around with music types, and as you would expect, the guys in the drumline really didn't like me.

Ah.. but then a fine day came. There was a high school music festival that was being hosted by TTU, and I knew a certain hot blonde that would be there. I stayed around that weekend, and paid particularly close attention to the try-outs to make sure I knew which of the 4 honor bands this particular hot blonde... Julie somebody... was going to be in.

You can imagine the shock on the percussion instructors face when I showed up at the volunteer meeting and said, "Hey, I'd love to help out band 3." Apparently it never occured to these morons that I had an alterior motive. Either way, they were happy to have my help and I got the job instructing band 3.

As luck would have it I was paired with one of the few guys in the drumline that I actually liked. Jay. An impossibly shaped human male. He was pointy, yet spherical, and a little lumpy here and there. He was funny as hell though... and full of useless trivia. Josh and I called him the Oracle.

At Band 3's first rehearsal I found myself sitting in an auditorium next to the Oracle. We were making small talk when he said what we both were thinking. "Man... they are high school chicks.. but some of them are really hot."

I responded to this in the only way I could. "You see the 1st chair flute?"

"Yeah... she's hot dude.."

I smiled an evil smile, looked Jay in the eye and said, "I'm gonna have her."

Jay laughed the laugh of a man who's just been lied to. About that time the director announced it was break time. I looked over at the Oracle, and patted him on the back and said, "Watch and learn boy."

Jay then sat in his chair, and watched as I walked up to that hot blonde first chair flute girl and struck on a conversation. She smiled and laughed and we talked a bit, and then we walked out. The Oracle was mystified.

Looking back, he wasn't much of an oracle. Because what he didn't know is I already knew the girl. Julie and I had met at her highschool band camp over the summer, and basically spent a whole week hanging out and flirting with each other. To the Oracle it looked like I walked up to a stranger and she started flirting with me hard from the get go, when in fact... it was clearly a stacked deck.

We hung out quite a bit together on that Honor Band weekend... then some months passed.. then some phone calls.. then before you know it... We ended up on a first date that lasted 48 hours.

Jay... if you ever read this... Gotcha!
Pet Store Fun

By now some of you may have seen the two new links. Jones you've all met, and you've read some of Shawn's posts here and there to I'll wager. I figured I should relate a tale that would sort-of give you an idea about what these two are like... So here goes...

Josh and Shawn are both married to cute blondes. God Bless 'em. Josh's wife, Jenny is from North Dakota, and would fit right in with the infamous Perfect Aryan Bible Study. Jenny's a babe, and Julie and I love her to death.

Shawn, despite his facial defects, revolting personality, and poor hygene, married well too. That however is another story. Suffice it to say that his wife Leslie is truely a doll. Sweet-and-innocent to the core. She's a babe, and Julie and I love her to death. Remember that sweet-and-innocent part though... it's key.

So one day these two happy couples are out messin' around, running here and there, and generally enjoying themselves. For some unknown reason they decide to stop in pet store. The split up to see about getting what needs got in the most efficient manner possible and soon enough it's about time to go. Josh and Jenny can't seem to locate Shawn and Leslie though... After walking around the store abit they find the couple standing in front of the rat cages.... looking confused.

They walk up behind them and ask what's up.

Leslie says, "Well we're lookin' at the rats.. but this one here.. he has something wrong with him... I mean what's that? It's like a tumor or something..."

Then of course.. Beloved Jenny... Unintentionally playing the role of Nate, chimes in with a line that shall be passed down for generations...

"OH MY GOD! Those are his BALLS man!"
Freeclimbing the Chimneys

As you can probably tell, my wife an I are exceptionally good at getting ourselves into trouble. This is yet another story of one such time.

If you've ever been to the Great Smokey Mountain National Park then you know what the Chimneys are. They are basically one mountain, with two twin spires that shoot up from the top. You know... Like chimneys. They are not small though... not at all. They are in fact one of the tallest peaks in the whole national park.

So on the day in question Julie and I were hiking around the national park and started looking for something.... challenging. We talked to the ranger, and he said that the trail to the top of the Chimneys was pretty tough. Tough? Hell yeah baby. We were on our way.

We drove to the area where the chimney trail is and found cars everywhere. We parked and started looking for the trail head. Couldn't find it though. The only thing we did find was a trail leading up that said, "Danger: Trail Closed".

So what do you think we did? Damn skippy. Up the trail we went.

Now while we were not the brightest folks you could meet, I assure you we were prepared. We had knives, food, water, and emergency gear. Well... I thought we were prepared. We had agreed to just hike up as far as we could, then turn around and call it a day. heh... You know the old sayin' about a frog and the boilin' water? That apparently applies to hiking, because before we realized it, we weren't so much hiking, as climbing. We'd stop and laugh for while about how that Ranger really knew what he was talking about when he said a trail was tough, and then just climb some more. But before long though we had a choice to make.

We found ourselves in an awkward spot. We had topped the treeline. Above us? Rock. Probly a 40 foot climb. Below us? Ugh. Plain truth is, neither of us believed we could make the climb back down the way we came. To steep, and to slick. Well... shit...

We were young, and had more balls than brains, so we started climbing. Wasn't that bad really, I was going first finding holds and helping her where I could. She didn't need it though. She's a badass from the get-go. We climbed like this for quite a while, until I came to a bad spot.

At this one particular spot there was a rock formation sticking out over our heads. Now this meant I had to reach up, and back, away from the mountain, to get a hold, and pull myself up over this ledge. It also means that in doing so, you are basically dangling your entire body over a 5,000 foot cliff. Did I mention it was windy?

So with my right arm I reached up and grabbed the ledge over my head. Once I had a good solid grib I brought my other arm over and pulled hard to get up as quick as I could. God knows I didn't want to think about what I was doing. Before I knew it I was on top of the ledge and scrambling to get away from it.

That's when I realized... shit... Julie has to do what I just did. I wasn't really scared before... but I was now. I turned to help her and of course, she was already up, smiling and laughing like, "Can you believe we're doing this?" Like I said... she's a badass.

It was justa few feet to the top of the chimney, and we finished it with no problem, except that we were in for a shock when we got there... We climbed up and for the first time we noticed the view. This is how God sees the world. I don't really remember what we saw. I just remember feeling like I was stealing a small piece of Heaven while I was here on earth.

We were looking around in awe, and that's when I heard Julie say, "oh shit."

I looked over to find out what she meant, and that's when I saw the other chimney, complete with fat tourists who had barely broken a sweat getting up to it. A few of them had noticed us, and were pointing, clearly wondering what the hell we were doing over there. Damn. Connecting the two chimneys is basically a rock rim that's about 3 foot wide, with sheer drops to certain splattery death on each side. We climbed down to it, and crawled all the way across to the other side. Did I mention it was windy?

We made it obviously. We got to the other side, rested for a minute or two on the benches there, then walked down the 4 foot wide paved path, that was apparently the trail to the top of the Chimney's that ranger had told us about.

Maybe he didn't know what a difficult trail was after all, but by God we do.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

48 hour first dates...

Before I get to involved in the story of the first time I took my future wife out, I better make sure you understand the cast. DrWho, our heroin, is refered to as Julie in the story. Josh, my dearly beloved best friend posts here under the name Jones. It's a matter of trivia that my wife used to dream of marrying Josh, prior to meeting me. Josh was in the weddin', he was just the most bestest man, as apposed to the groom. I, of course, am me dammit.

To set the stage a bit... well... no.. that's a tale for another day... Let's just say that Julie wanted me to take her to prom, and I said, "Look man, I'm an asshole. I don't want to screw up your senior prom. Maybe we better go on a not-so-important date first. If you still want me to, then I'll take ya." Strangely enough... that worked... and come the next Friday, I headed off to Manchester, TN to meet her.

So it's friday night and I show up at Julie's house. Typical stuff. Meet the family blah blah blah. It's amazing though how these first few minutes will shape the rest of your life. For example, Josh, my best friend, happened to also be a friend of Julie's sister Jill. So when I first saw Jill, she said, "You know Josh right?"

"Yeah.. I know Josh... he said you were a wench." Now looking back that's probably not the best thing to say to a girl when you first meet them. I figured she knew Josh, and knew that Josh would never say something like that. She just figured I was a dick.

So.. after that disaster we hop in my sweet ride, a 1987 Escort EXP baby, and head off to meet Josh, and his girlfriend Sasha, a hot little blonde who I failed to introduce in what was clearly an incomplete cast of characters. At any rate, we got to sasha's house and Josh saw us pull in. Now to be honest, as far as friends go, Josh and I were pretty cruel to each other. But hey... it was all in fun. So as soon as Josh sees us pull up, he grabs sasha up(she was tiny)and sprints to the Three-Mobile (his car), and peels out of the driveway. Naturally, I give chase.

What I didn't realize is that Manchester actually builds their roads at right angles. There is no curve in intersections. So as I make a hard right, I find that I have made it to hard. The right front tire drops 2 feet into a ditch and pops against a culvert. sheeeee-it.

Ok... so we now have to change a tire. No biggy. So I get the car jacked up, loosen all the lugs and pull the tire off. Sept.. the tire doesn't come off. So I pull again. No luck. Not good. Wait... whats that... rain.. nice...

So thankfully there is a house nearby, and I go ask the old fella for something to get the tire off. He provided me with anciet wisdom. When in doubt, hit it with a sledge hammer. I did... and the damned wheel sure enough came off. I got the temp tire put on and lowered the car. We thanked the old fella and just as we were about to head out.. click. Yup. Dead Battery. So girls and boys, we're standing in the rain outside this old timer's house, waitin' on him to come out and jump the car off... and I just couldn't resist. I leaned over and kissed Julie on the cheek. First kiss yall. Honest truth. The girl was so sweet and innocent she was afraid the old timer was gonna see us and think she was some kinda tramp! HA! Cracks me up still...

Anyway God bless him, the old fella jumped the car and we were finally off. I knew I couldn't make it home, so I was stuck in the awkward situation of asking my date's mom if I could spend the night. I seriously doubt the woman regrets anything more than saying yes, but thank God, she did.

Well anyway Julie and I stayed up all night talking... then we headed out first thing in the morning to get the tire changed. We spent all saturday at the park, just hanging out and enjoying the day. Honest to God boys, call me a wuss if ya like, but I was stupid-kid-in-love.

Around 4:30pm I was fixing to head out. Julie gives me this look and says, "Tommarow's easter. Did you say your church had sunrise services on Easter?"

"Ummmm... yeah."

"I've never been to one. Mind if I come home with ya and go to it?"

"Ummmm... No... I mean.. that would rule man."

Julie runs off to tell ask her mom about it, and for the second time in as many days, her mom makes a decision that she's bound to regret for the rest of her life. Her Mom played the, "Your old enough to make the right decision" card, figuring guilt would win the day.

We got to Nashville around 6:00pm.

So the first time my mom ever lays eyes on Julie is when I walk in and say, "Hey Mom! This is Julie, she's goin' to church with us in the mornin'".

Obviously I have a cool mom.

No worries. Those two hit it off immediately and they have been best buds ever since.

To cut to the chase, we stayed up all night again. We missed the sunrise service, but we managed to watch the sunrise together. Still the best Easter of my life though. We played in Nashville the rest of sunday, and then I drove her home.

I knew I was gonna marry that girl. No question in my mind.
Casting Call

Ok.. So I'm putting together a gallery page for all the regulars at Vox's blog. While I'm doing so, I figger I may as well go ahead and make one for my own blog too! Though I think I'm probly just gonna do girls only for my blog. I have pics from Spacebunny, Joy, Kristy, and of course DrWho. The rest of you... that means you two Sarah and RJK... need to email me pictures.

And any of you lurkers that want included... you're welcome as well. Just send me a picture.

Why do I have a feeling this could be trouble?
Back Surgery and Locker Rooms

I had a micro-discectomy back on March 18th. This isn't a dramatic surgery, but when it's you... well.. no such thing as minor surgery. Esspecially when it involves shaving some bone off of a vertibrae or two. All went well though, and after about three weeks I was healin' up nicely.

The inscission looked pretty good consideriing, and I was up and about and basicly in no pain. That was when DrWho decided we should go for a swim. I wasn't really up for a swim, but I would certainly lay around in the hot tub!

So off to the gym we go. We enjoyed the hot tub for about an hour and decided to call it a night. This is where things got interesting.

I walked into the locker-room to get dried off and changed. Same old story, room full of guys trying desperately to not look at walls, ceilings and floors. I went over to my locker and started dryin' off and changing.

Just as I bent over to take off my swimsuit I heard... what no man should ever hear in a locker-room.

"Holy shit dude! Check him out!"

Now understand that at this point I am bare-assed. Nekkid. In the nude, so to speak.

Still nude, I turned around to find out just exactly who it was I was going to have to kill. I look and see this kid staring at me with eyes like saucers and he stammers...

"Shit dude I was talkin' about your scar!"

Much laughter from males all over the room. One of his buddies chimes in, "Crap man.. he was gonna f**k you up.. bahahaha!" Later on one of the guys approached and said, "Man you have that 'I'm gonna break your neck' look down. when you turned around I seriously thought you were gonna kill him... that was awesome!"

And that boys and girls is why one should always choose thier words carefully when in the presence of naked men.