Alrighty then. It has been a while since I updated the blog. I am truly sorry that I forgot.
Now that I have groveled enough, I was asked to talk about the state fair. Oh goody, I could write a book on that subject. Deb wanted to go to the fair and as always we had to go on the night they let you in "free" if you bring four cans of food which is a great concept except we forgot to bring any cans of food. Now the ticket booths and entry points are always a treat for me. I view the admissions area as a funneling of foaming mouthed sheeple. Sheeple are people (humans I guess) that herd and act like sheep. Sheep will follow each other off the side of a cliff or so I am told. No, The Puppies do not have any sheep as pets, and my knowledge of sheep is limited to Hollywood like the rest of you. Anyway, the sheeple rush through the gates like it is feeding time and the farmers are dumping out the feed. Giant turkey legs and deep fried Oreos await. I guess in a metaphoric sense they are.
I adhere to a long standing tradition of trying to support the local businesses that operate at the fair. The money stays local and the carnies get money to not fix their teeth from someone else. If you listen to the idiot box (television), you think people loose their blooming onion minds when the fair is in town. Why would any sane person eat deep fried Oreos or for heavens sake, a Krispy Kreme hamburger? Clearly the answer is, they are victims of the herd mentality of sheeple (notice that is not capitalized on purpose because they don't deserve capitalization). Idiots.
So, we walked around the fair and we had dinner at Neomonde's stand. The cost was the same at Neomonde's market and none of it was deep fried. Was there a line at Neomonde's booth? Nope, but the line at the giant turkey legs was long. I can just see Peter Gros from Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom sneeking up on the Turkey Leg Idiots and whispering to the camera while pointing at the sheeple. "I have to stay back or the sheeple will trample me during their feeding frenzy. But I really would like to film the giant turkey legs, so I'm going to send in Jim". So, Jim Fowler would walk up to the booth and grab one of the huge turkey legs and swing it like a club to get away. I read on some local news website that the giant turkey legs come from turkeys that are fed a special meal to make them so huge. I wonder if they feed the giant turkeys giant turkey legs to make them that big. I really do have an enquiring mind.
After we had dinner standing up and getting it on my clothes, we decided to walk through the livestock area. Oh goody, I had swarma stains on my shirt now I was going to have sheep poo on my shoes, and I eventually fulfilled that prophecy. Deb wanted to see the sheep, so all I had to do was turn my head until I smelled them and away we went. We walked around the sheep and several of them looked like Monty and Riley when they were young. Next, we headed toward the cattle exhibit. Now why does a sane person walk around a cattle exhibit? Answer, because his wife wants to walk around the cattle exhibit. So,we did. This exhibit was somewhat crowded and we walked through the main aisle until this woman jumped up in my face holding out her arms. I reached back to grab my switchblade when I realized I didn't own a switchblade, so I had to be tolerant of her. This woman said and I kid you not, "Watch out. Cow coming through" just as a cow was being led through the crowd. It kind of reminded me of the guys that wave the flags that precede the forklift at Lowe's. We jumped off to the side not wanting to be trampled in a cow stampede as Bessy The Cow sauntered by on her way back to her pen. This was clearly a case of sheeple leading the cow. I am sure there is a joke in there somewhere which I will reserve for a later date.
We left there and went to the building where the state agencies had their displays. Don't ask me why state agencies need to advertise but they did. We were walking past the highway patrol exhibit when Deb saw this decal of a highway patrol badge. Deb grabbed one and put it on her shirt, and the rest of the night she kept trying to handcuff and taser me. Well, I care as much for being tasered as I do eating giant turkey legs. Deb was determined that I was going to have fun regardless. Some people lets authority go to their head. It ain't going to happen and it didn't.
I forgot to talk about the carnies. It is always fun to walk past the rides and see the person that is operating the rides. It amazes me that people with children will pay money to put Buffy and Jody onto a ride controlled by a person they tell their kids to stay away from. Evidently part of the fun is having a drunk meth head at the helm which heightens one's pleasure of being whirled around at vomit inducing speeds. Buffy and Jody do love the Jim Beam Crack-O-Whirl and the fair only comes around once a year. The only thing Buffy and Jody would like better would be the NASCAR Jim Beam Crack-O-Whirl. I wouldn't let these carnies operate a shovel much less let them put me on The Mechanical Spiral of Death. It ain't going to happen and it didn't.
To finish off our evening of pure glee, we stopped by the booth where the dairy department of NCSU sells ice cream. The ice cream is great but the line was 30 minutes long. Of course, we had to have ice cream. So, we did. I then added an ice cream stain to the swarma stain on my shirt which accompanied the cow, sheep, and turkey poo on my shoes. Boy, did I ever have fun.
Christmas is approaching and our Christmas display will be magnificent this year. Email me for a link to my Christmas display website.
Bye for now,
Al
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Kmart, Christmas Lighting Crazies,YMSU Campground
Well hi de ho Kmart shoppers. That's a phrase that I'll bet you haven't heard in a while or ever before for that matter. As part of my life experiences, I have shopped in Kmart. I didn't like it but I did. Now I know what you are thinking, yes I wore a disguise. I would equate shopping in Kmart about the same experience as when I was a kid and having a bully sit on me and fart on my head. But what do I know? In a time long ago, a long time before The Love Boat, Deb and I were traveling to go "camping" in West By God Virginia. We were on the interstate in the mountains on Saturday afternoon and the brakes on the car were making ugly sounds and needed automotive stimulus. In West By God Virginia, Walmart is associated with Nordstrums and Kmart is a Friday night outing. We were in the middle of Hooterville and the thought of spending Saturday and Sunday night waiting on Bubba to open Bubba's Auto Garage, Food and Ammo Store on Monday to fix our car was not really palatable. So we put on our fake nose and glasses mask and had the friendly folks at Kmart fix our mighty purty Jeep Cherokee. A few hundred dollars later we were on our way and Kmart was ancient history. The next time I went into Kmart was years later hunting for cut rate Christmas lights. Now, I am not proud and will stand on the side of the road and beg for Christmas lights if I had to, so Kmart was not all that bad that day. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this as it sort of popped into my Republican brain when I sat down to update the blog. Regardless, hi de ho Kmart shoppers just came to mind.
A week or so ago, Deb and I went to a Charlotte, NC for an animated Christmas lighting convention. We have been going each year for a few years and love it or at least I do. Deb wouldn't tell me if she didn't. So, we went and had fun. The usual group of crazies were there and provided the entertainment for us all. This particular all day meeting was about the upcoming technological changes to our hobby. You naysayers just laughed but the lighting crazies that read this blog are nodding that the changes afoot will dramatically change our hobby. If you make it to my display this year, you will get to see some of the changes, but you likely will not know it. The lighting that you may have seen in Hong Kong on the buildings is finally trickling down to us residential, animated lighting folks. Soon a single bulb will be computer controllable and I will finally achieve Hong Kong lighting status in my yard. Yeah baby. Those of you that have been to our display will know that it isn't just a bunch of Christmas lights and drop cords. The display is actually very complicated and requires an immense amount of engineering and planning. I heard those snickers, if you want me to wipe that smile off your face and turn you into one of my roadies you just say the word. Now to make you snicker again, I will have almost 100K lights this year, more than four miles of wire (actually I think that is a little conservative and it is multistranded wire), some very sophisticated electronics that I made and lots that I didn't. There are close to 40 embedded microprocessors, and an industrial communication protocol. Are you still snickering Smartbutt? I'll bet not. My engineer friends get a huge kick out the engineering that goes into this display. This is my hobby, and I work on it in some capacity every single day. I plan at least 1 1/2 years out to which I am now doing advanced planning for the 2011 display. I have to as it is extremely complicated. Some of you just laughed (I heard you don't deny it) when I mentioned that I listen to Christmas music almost every day. I've already picked part of the music for the 2011 display. I listened to a hundred renditions of Jingle Bells before I ever decided to implement the song into my display and it is amazing. I pick artists that I like and enjoy them for what they are--artists. The musicians that read this blog know that an artist can take a song as simple as Jingle Bells and turn it into an amazing piece of music. Somebody once said what separates a hobby from obsession was a very thin line. I don't have time for an obsession as my hobby keeps me too busy. Dang, I forgot to tell you about the campground were we stayed in Charlotte.
This campground was what I call a YMSU or a Yankee Money Separation Unit. You know what I'm talking about. It is a facade business that caters to Yankees with outrageous things and separates our northern friends from larger than normal portions of their money. This campground, a YMSU extraordinaire, was on Lake Norman and charged $40 to $80 per night for the smallest campsites in existence. Out front it had a security gate ten feet high with wrought iron fencing leading up to the road. What most people don't know is that this particular fence is only in the front and not on the rest of the property. The thugs simply park next to the road and walk the 200 feet into the campground. Now Yankees love them some gates. You can always tell where a Yankee has a vacation house in the south by the gate on the driveway leading up to the house. Most don't have fences around the property just driveway gates. As with most of the gates, you could drive around the gate but I guess the bad people would never figure that out. Down here a gate just tells us that a Yankee owns that house, so we don't throw our Sundrop bottles and Moonpie wrappers into a Southerner's yard. You betcha. Anyway, you guys got me side tracked again. This campsite was only two feet longer than our small motorhome. This had to be the shortest and steepest campsite that we have ever "camped" in. The campground was built entirely into the hill leading down into the lake. I had to back The Love Boat at an angle to keep from striking the beautiful brick wall ten feet behind out campsite. I believe that I used the term moron to describe the person that built that campground or RV resort as they wanted to be called. By big ole hairy butt. It was a YMSU that I didn't recognize as an YMSU. I guess I was listening to Christmas music that day and missed something.
I was told by someone my blog is wordy. Tough.
Al
A week or so ago, Deb and I went to a Charlotte, NC for an animated Christmas lighting convention. We have been going each year for a few years and love it or at least I do. Deb wouldn't tell me if she didn't. So, we went and had fun. The usual group of crazies were there and provided the entertainment for us all. This particular all day meeting was about the upcoming technological changes to our hobby. You naysayers just laughed but the lighting crazies that read this blog are nodding that the changes afoot will dramatically change our hobby. If you make it to my display this year, you will get to see some of the changes, but you likely will not know it. The lighting that you may have seen in Hong Kong on the buildings is finally trickling down to us residential, animated lighting folks. Soon a single bulb will be computer controllable and I will finally achieve Hong Kong lighting status in my yard. Yeah baby. Those of you that have been to our display will know that it isn't just a bunch of Christmas lights and drop cords. The display is actually very complicated and requires an immense amount of engineering and planning. I heard those snickers, if you want me to wipe that smile off your face and turn you into one of my roadies you just say the word. Now to make you snicker again, I will have almost 100K lights this year, more than four miles of wire (actually I think that is a little conservative and it is multistranded wire), some very sophisticated electronics that I made and lots that I didn't. There are close to 40 embedded microprocessors, and an industrial communication protocol. Are you still snickering Smartbutt? I'll bet not. My engineer friends get a huge kick out the engineering that goes into this display. This is my hobby, and I work on it in some capacity every single day. I plan at least 1 1/2 years out to which I am now doing advanced planning for the 2011 display. I have to as it is extremely complicated. Some of you just laughed (I heard you don't deny it) when I mentioned that I listen to Christmas music almost every day. I've already picked part of the music for the 2011 display. I listened to a hundred renditions of Jingle Bells before I ever decided to implement the song into my display and it is amazing. I pick artists that I like and enjoy them for what they are--artists. The musicians that read this blog know that an artist can take a song as simple as Jingle Bells and turn it into an amazing piece of music. Somebody once said what separates a hobby from obsession was a very thin line. I don't have time for an obsession as my hobby keeps me too busy. Dang, I forgot to tell you about the campground were we stayed in Charlotte.
This campground was what I call a YMSU or a Yankee Money Separation Unit. You know what I'm talking about. It is a facade business that caters to Yankees with outrageous things and separates our northern friends from larger than normal portions of their money. This campground, a YMSU extraordinaire, was on Lake Norman and charged $40 to $80 per night for the smallest campsites in existence. Out front it had a security gate ten feet high with wrought iron fencing leading up to the road. What most people don't know is that this particular fence is only in the front and not on the rest of the property. The thugs simply park next to the road and walk the 200 feet into the campground. Now Yankees love them some gates. You can always tell where a Yankee has a vacation house in the south by the gate on the driveway leading up to the house. Most don't have fences around the property just driveway gates. As with most of the gates, you could drive around the gate but I guess the bad people would never figure that out. Down here a gate just tells us that a Yankee owns that house, so we don't throw our Sundrop bottles and Moonpie wrappers into a Southerner's yard. You betcha. Anyway, you guys got me side tracked again. This campsite was only two feet longer than our small motorhome. This had to be the shortest and steepest campsite that we have ever "camped" in. The campground was built entirely into the hill leading down into the lake. I had to back The Love Boat at an angle to keep from striking the beautiful brick wall ten feet behind out campsite. I believe that I used the term moron to describe the person that built that campground or RV resort as they wanted to be called. By big ole hairy butt. It was a YMSU that I didn't recognize as an YMSU. I guess I was listening to Christmas music that day and missed something.
I was told by someone my blog is wordy. Tough.
Al
Friday, August 20, 2010
Army Buddy, Diner, Short Pants.
Keep reading and I will explain this photo.
A couple days ago I got a phone call from an old army buddy. I believe that I've talked about him, but really all you should know is that he drives a tractor trailer truck. He travels all over the US, and we arrange to meet to see each other whenever we are going to be within 100 miles of each other. When he called he said he was going to be in Greensboro, NC to deliver a load and would be there about midday, I agreed to meet him. Raleigh and Greensboro are about 90 minutes apart which is about as far as I would drive to have lunch with him. Now Army Buddy has a remarkable memory for details--truly remarkable. He had delivered to the Greensboro area before and remembered a diner that was on HWY 29 just north of Greensboro. This particular diner had truck parking and seemed to be a good place to meet. This diner was not a place that I would normally frequent as it looked "rough" from the outside and was about the same inside. The front of the place was lined in neon and the neon was making a crackling sound like you hear in horror movies. I kid you not. Because this diner was quite small, when Army buddy and I walked in together everybody looked up at us. From the squinting of their Caterpillar ballcap covered eyes, I immediately got the feeling that the boys didn't like College Boy (me) accompanying Army Buddy into their Bubba Bistro. It sure didn't help when I smiled and showed them I had all of my teeth, but I can handle my myself. After the awkwardness subsided, a waitress told us in Greensboronese to have a seat anywhere we wanted. I wanted to avoid the whole matter and go sit in the next county but Army Buddy got a booth and the boys went back to chewing on toothpicks and sucking food through their tooth. Like old friends will do, Army Buddy started telling me about something that happened to him on the way to Bubba Bistro when the other waitress walked up and asked if we were ready to order. I looked up at the waitress and swore the girl was a vampire. Her skin was washed out and pale as Martha Stewart's face at the moment the judge sentenced her to jail. This girl's lips were gray. I surmised she was either a vampire or anemic. It was daylight outside, so I halfheartedly decided she was anemic. So, Anemic Waitress asked again if we were ready to order. By now I was almost in sensory overload to the point I was having trouble making words, but I had enough resolve to ask her to bring me some water--tap water that is not holy water. Army Buddy did the same and Anemic Waitress scurried off to the room behind the cash register. Then Army Buddy and I decided what we wanted from the menu which was laminated and covered in Magic Marker scribblings updating the prices on the stuff. We chit chatted a couple minutes and Anemic Waitress returned and again asked us to order. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and Army Buddy ordered a barbecue plate. When she left we went back to chit chatting. About ten minutes later Anemic Waitress brought over the food and placed it in front of us. Army Buddy then asked her where the bread was for his barbecue plate because in Kansas they always get bread with the barbecue plate. Well Anemic Waitress wasted no time assuming the "I don't get paid enough for this crap and you've got to be kidding me" pose that nineteen year old females so commonly exhibit. Army Buddy kept insisting and I gave him the "I'd fight Al-Qaeda beside you but I don't fight vampires and you're on your own" look. I got up and went to the men's room. That is when I saw the sign you just saw above. I've been in men's rooms before, lots of them, and I have never needed a sign to inform me not to urinate on the floor. I figure that is one of those things that goes without saying. However, the other clientele must have needed some coaching and for the most part they adhered to the management's wishes. But having read the sign a little late, I was careful not to soil my College Boy shoes from the existing inventory on the floor, and decided I needed to rejoin Army Buddy before Anemic Waitress came and took out her bread frustrations on the College Boy that didn't read the sign not to pee on the floor. I was guilty by association. I stealthy walked back to the table and Army Buddy had his bread sitting in front of him and was happy. The neighboring boys didn't pay me much attention because they were too busy snickering about the College Boy returning with pee on his fancy shoes. Amazingly, the rest of the time we were there everything else was uneventful. Army Buddy and I caught up on stuff, and we left and I drove back to Raleigh. The last part almost made up for the first part.
Deb bought me a couple pairs of shorts (short pants) from a mail order company. They arrived a few days ago, and I decided to wear a pair of them to see Army Buddy. I pulled off all the labels and got dressed. I was putting my wallet into the right rear pocket when I noticed that only the left pocket was real. The right pocket had a flap and Velcro but was only two inches deep. Now what moron designed a pair of shorts with a two inch deep pocket? I'll bet he was a college boy and didn't go into diners, because if he did he'd get beat up by the boys for making pants that their tin of Skoal snuff didn't fit in. I felt cheated. Where is my other pocket? Maybe I'll get me a short wallet and cut all of my credit cards and stuff in half, and then I would have something to put in my two inch deep pocket. The pocket had a flap and Velcro on it in case you missed it the first time I said it. Is this some kind of a fashion joke or something? Maybe that was what the boys in the restaurant were looking at, College Boy with the short pocket is going to get pee all over his shoes. It ain't funny, and I ain't laughing.
Geez Yall,
Al
MontyAndRiley@gmail.com
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Pickles, Loss of shoes, Blow molds
In case you were wondering why I haven't updated the blog in several days, I've been busy, sick, or both. I've been in a pickle. Pickle is a word that isn't used much anymore but has been used in my presence by others several times in the last week. That's right, I've been in a pickle. Between work beating me and a summer cold sniffling me, I've been in a pickle. I'm back and vow to quit brining. Enough said.
So, Walter told me that he got into a pickle. No, I am not obsessive compulsive. As Groucho Marx was heard to say on the TV program You Bet Your Life, pickle is The Word of the Day. Pickle, pickle, pickle. Anyway, Walter got himself in a pickle with his neighbor. Evidently Walter had waited a little too long to mow his grass and decided to cut it at a taller height to keep from scalping and possibly killing the grass. He set the mower to the top notch of the mower and cut the yard. What you don't know is that Walter has a neighbor that is obsessive compulsive and does often get himself into a pickle (ding,ding,ding the secret word)telling his neighbors how to keep their yards. Walter's neighbor has made mention to Walter and his aunt on occasions about the condition of their yard in the past. Shortly after Walter cut his grass, the neighbor made mention to Walter's aunt that he thought,to which I shall paraphrase, the grass was too high and should be cut shorter. I'm not exactly sure what Walter's aunt told him but as soon as Walter told me of the conversation with the esteemed gentleman, I knew how I would have handled it had I been in her shoes. With age come tact and diplomacy. I would have told him to wait where he stood, and I would have walked inside and asked Deb to take him a greeting card, from that huge box of greeting cards that sits next to the front door, and give him one. On the card it says, "I would like to apologize for the upcoming actions of my husband and would like to offer you a jar of lubricant as a token of our good faith. My husband has gone to change shoes and will return shortly to put his foot up your butt and would you please use the lubricant as he has lost so many pairs of shoes edificating stupid people like yourself. I'm sure you understand as it can be quite expensive.Thank you for your cooperation." Then I would have gone outside and fulfilled the card's prophecy. Deb sometimes forgets to give out the lubrication, and I wind up having to hop around the yard on one foot until I can dislodge my work boot, but I forgive her and understand. When I was younger, I bought a huge box of those greeting cards but as time as told, I really didn't need them as so many people simply looked at me and understood my feelings in the matter in advance and decided not to utter stupidity in my presence. I am a lucky man. However, Walter's aunt has not been as lucky. So, I plan to take some of my custom greeting cards with the words "my husband" scratched through and the words "Al" written above, so Walter's aunt can use them too. Why should Deb be the only person to benefit from the greeting cards? Deb had some greeting cards made up too. They say "Tell me you didn't say that about The Puppies?." If you noticed the card said puppies and not husband you are a careful reader. She is like a mama bear when it comes to The Puppies. I could just see Walter's neighbors saying something about The Puppies and Deb stomping out with a rolled up greeting card to smack him on the nose. Now that is a vivid image huh. He would definitely be in a pickle (ding, ding, ding).
Last weekend, Deb and myself drove about ninety minutes to Randleman, NC to pick up some plastic reindeer for our Christmas display. You likely have seen these reindeer as they are plastic, light up, are about three feet high, and sit in front of Santa on a sleigh. Plastic decorations of that type are called blow molds. I know several people that collect them. Blow molds are not something that we collect or generally desire, but Deb likes that stupid Santa and the kids do too. It didn't seem right with Santa only having three reindeer, so we now own a full complement of Santa's reindeer. Believe it or not we could not think of the names of the reindeer. Bahh humbug. But what I wanted to talk about was where we got the reindeer which are exact matches for the three that we already have. I got an email from a friend in Charlotte that collects blow molds that some guy had a huge collection of blow molds for sale on Craigslist. It took some painful planning but my friend managed to align several people from North and South Carolina to go together to buy this guy's blow molds as this guy would only sell the entire collection and not piece mill. Last Saturday we drove to this guy's house and spent ninety minutes gathering 100 blow molds from various locations on this guy's property. It was a million degrees in the shade, and I knew one of us was going to get snake bit from the looks of his overgrown property, but we didn't. While gathering all of the blow molds, we lined them up in the yard for identification purposes. You have never seen such a sight in your life. I turned to another friend of mine and commented on how does one person collect 100 blow molds. My friend calmly informed me that he had at least twice as many. My jaw dropped and I quickly picked it up to keep a snake from crawling inside. I was dumbfounded. In the car going to Randleman,I was griping about having to store Santa and his plastic, midget reindeer. I couldn't imagine storing 200 blow molds. Well I am here to tell you that it ain't going to happen to Casa Al and Deb (and Puppies). It would amaze you how much space is already used to store lights and props. I am not in a storage pickle (ding, ding, ding) yet. The new reindeer are cute though.
Aloha Yall,
Al
MontyAndRiley@gmail.com
So, Walter told me that he got into a pickle. No, I am not obsessive compulsive. As Groucho Marx was heard to say on the TV program You Bet Your Life, pickle is The Word of the Day. Pickle, pickle, pickle. Anyway, Walter got himself in a pickle with his neighbor. Evidently Walter had waited a little too long to mow his grass and decided to cut it at a taller height to keep from scalping and possibly killing the grass. He set the mower to the top notch of the mower and cut the yard. What you don't know is that Walter has a neighbor that is obsessive compulsive and does often get himself into a pickle (ding,ding,ding the secret word)telling his neighbors how to keep their yards. Walter's neighbor has made mention to Walter and his aunt on occasions about the condition of their yard in the past. Shortly after Walter cut his grass, the neighbor made mention to Walter's aunt that he thought,to which I shall paraphrase, the grass was too high and should be cut shorter. I'm not exactly sure what Walter's aunt told him but as soon as Walter told me of the conversation with the esteemed gentleman, I knew how I would have handled it had I been in her shoes. With age come tact and diplomacy. I would have told him to wait where he stood, and I would have walked inside and asked Deb to take him a greeting card, from that huge box of greeting cards that sits next to the front door, and give him one. On the card it says, "I would like to apologize for the upcoming actions of my husband and would like to offer you a jar of lubricant as a token of our good faith. My husband has gone to change shoes and will return shortly to put his foot up your butt and would you please use the lubricant as he has lost so many pairs of shoes edificating stupid people like yourself. I'm sure you understand as it can be quite expensive.Thank you for your cooperation." Then I would have gone outside and fulfilled the card's prophecy. Deb sometimes forgets to give out the lubrication, and I wind up having to hop around the yard on one foot until I can dislodge my work boot, but I forgive her and understand. When I was younger, I bought a huge box of those greeting cards but as time as told, I really didn't need them as so many people simply looked at me and understood my feelings in the matter in advance and decided not to utter stupidity in my presence. I am a lucky man. However, Walter's aunt has not been as lucky. So, I plan to take some of my custom greeting cards with the words "my husband" scratched through and the words "Al" written above, so Walter's aunt can use them too. Why should Deb be the only person to benefit from the greeting cards? Deb had some greeting cards made up too. They say "Tell me you didn't say that about The Puppies?." If you noticed the card said puppies and not husband you are a careful reader. She is like a mama bear when it comes to The Puppies. I could just see Walter's neighbors saying something about The Puppies and Deb stomping out with a rolled up greeting card to smack him on the nose. Now that is a vivid image huh. He would definitely be in a pickle (ding, ding, ding).
Last weekend, Deb and myself drove about ninety minutes to Randleman, NC to pick up some plastic reindeer for our Christmas display. You likely have seen these reindeer as they are plastic, light up, are about three feet high, and sit in front of Santa on a sleigh. Plastic decorations of that type are called blow molds. I know several people that collect them. Blow molds are not something that we collect or generally desire, but Deb likes that stupid Santa and the kids do too. It didn't seem right with Santa only having three reindeer, so we now own a full complement of Santa's reindeer. Believe it or not we could not think of the names of the reindeer. Bahh humbug. But what I wanted to talk about was where we got the reindeer which are exact matches for the three that we already have. I got an email from a friend in Charlotte that collects blow molds that some guy had a huge collection of blow molds for sale on Craigslist. It took some painful planning but my friend managed to align several people from North and South Carolina to go together to buy this guy's blow molds as this guy would only sell the entire collection and not piece mill. Last Saturday we drove to this guy's house and spent ninety minutes gathering 100 blow molds from various locations on this guy's property. It was a million degrees in the shade, and I knew one of us was going to get snake bit from the looks of his overgrown property, but we didn't. While gathering all of the blow molds, we lined them up in the yard for identification purposes. You have never seen such a sight in your life. I turned to another friend of mine and commented on how does one person collect 100 blow molds. My friend calmly informed me that he had at least twice as many. My jaw dropped and I quickly picked it up to keep a snake from crawling inside. I was dumbfounded. In the car going to Randleman,I was griping about having to store Santa and his plastic, midget reindeer. I couldn't imagine storing 200 blow molds. Well I am here to tell you that it ain't going to happen to Casa Al and Deb (and Puppies). It would amaze you how much space is already used to store lights and props. I am not in a storage pickle (ding, ding, ding) yet. The new reindeer are cute though.
Aloha Yall,
Al
MontyAndRiley@gmail.com
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Ugly Mood, Mrs. Mystery Friend,
I've been cranky the last few days and dismiss it as summer allergies. I've not been as foul as Nancy Pelosi's face but ranking along those lines. Boy it didn't take long for me to get in a democrat joke today. The Canadians are asking who Nancy Perlosi is about now. Nancy Pelosi is The Wicked Witch of the House (of Representatives. Anyway, I caught myself sharpening my talons on my desk and decided I needed to bite some nail heads off or kick some puppies or something. This too shall pass as it always does and always will regardless if I like it or not. Which brings me to the next topic.
I had lunch with an old friend today. I have known Mystery Friend for about 25+ years. I met Mystery Friend about four years after I was discharged from the army. Which means Old Army Buddy (who gave me the Circus Peanut referral) predates Mystery Friend by five years. Why and I telling you that? I have no idea but my gray hair covered mind seemed to want to tell you. Mystery Friend got married (again) late last year. Mrs. Mystery Friend is still a mystery to me as every time I've gone to Mystery Friend's house she had just left. I mentioned that fact to Mystery Friend today, and he said he would work on letting me meet her. Well Mystery Friend is a newly wed, and his bride is going through menopause and is having some trouble as part of the transition. It seems Mrs. Mystery Friend is sharpening her talons on hubby somewhat regularly due to menopausal changes. Hummmm. Let's see. The Mystery Friends have been married about eight months and making hubby's life as fun as a Muslim at a pig picking (pig picking is Southernese for luau). Guys like to tease guys in that situation, but I refrained from doing so today because of my ill mood. Guys teasing each other about our wives is kind of like giving wedgies but more refined. I'm sure you understand.
I was getting dressed today watching the news when that idiotic lawyer commercial aired again, but the idiot lawyers (now that is redundant) had changed the content. The commercial no longer wanted people who had died from the use of this drug to call in and become part of their class action suit. Instead, the lawyers wanted the loved ones of people who had died to call in and join the lawsuit. Alrighty then, which one of Yall called those lawyers and told them that dead people don't make phone calls? Now I can't make fun of them and that isn't fair. I was just getting warmed up. Whoever did it, I forgive you but don't make a habit out of calling the idiots that I poke fun at. If you do, it will be a fulltime job.
In a couple weeks, Deb and I are attending a convention of Christmas lighting "enthusiasts" near the end of August. This will be year three for us attending. I know about 90% of the people attending as they are mostly from around North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. There has been and will be some characters at the convention. I'm sure that I will have some stories from this year. One of the people that is attending the convention has arranged a tour of one of the NASCAR team shops. I'm not a NASCAR fan but love the engineering and science behind those cars. We are driving The Love Boat to the convention, and we have not moved The Love Boat in weeks as I was thoroughly sick of of it when it got put into storage. The Love Boat sails in two weeks.
Al
I had lunch with an old friend today. I have known Mystery Friend for about 25+ years. I met Mystery Friend about four years after I was discharged from the army. Which means Old Army Buddy (who gave me the Circus Peanut referral) predates Mystery Friend by five years. Why and I telling you that? I have no idea but my gray hair covered mind seemed to want to tell you. Mystery Friend got married (again) late last year. Mrs. Mystery Friend is still a mystery to me as every time I've gone to Mystery Friend's house she had just left. I mentioned that fact to Mystery Friend today, and he said he would work on letting me meet her. Well Mystery Friend is a newly wed, and his bride is going through menopause and is having some trouble as part of the transition. It seems Mrs. Mystery Friend is sharpening her talons on hubby somewhat regularly due to menopausal changes. Hummmm. Let's see. The Mystery Friends have been married about eight months and making hubby's life as fun as a Muslim at a pig picking (pig picking is Southernese for luau). Guys like to tease guys in that situation, but I refrained from doing so today because of my ill mood. Guys teasing each other about our wives is kind of like giving wedgies but more refined. I'm sure you understand.
I was getting dressed today watching the news when that idiotic lawyer commercial aired again, but the idiot lawyers (now that is redundant) had changed the content. The commercial no longer wanted people who had died from the use of this drug to call in and become part of their class action suit. Instead, the lawyers wanted the loved ones of people who had died to call in and join the lawsuit. Alrighty then, which one of Yall called those lawyers and told them that dead people don't make phone calls? Now I can't make fun of them and that isn't fair. I was just getting warmed up. Whoever did it, I forgive you but don't make a habit out of calling the idiots that I poke fun at. If you do, it will be a fulltime job.
In a couple weeks, Deb and I are attending a convention of Christmas lighting "enthusiasts" near the end of August. This will be year three for us attending. I know about 90% of the people attending as they are mostly from around North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. There has been and will be some characters at the convention. I'm sure that I will have some stories from this year. One of the people that is attending the convention has arranged a tour of one of the NASCAR team shops. I'm not a NASCAR fan but love the engineering and science behind those cars. We are driving The Love Boat to the convention, and we have not moved The Love Boat in weeks as I was thoroughly sick of of it when it got put into storage. The Love Boat sails in two weeks.
Al
Monday, August 9, 2010
Circus Peanuts, Lawyer Ad, Camo Plywood
A friend brought his new significant other around this past weekend. We were working in his front yard when we decided we needed something from my house. So, my friend volunteered to drive his car to get the stuff from my house. So, the three of us got into this car. This friend is a reader of this blog and had gotten a bag of Circus Peanuts as a joke (I sure hope that is why the bag was in his car). He reached into the bag and held out a Circus Peanut to me knowing that I would say something ugly to him. Before I had a chance to say something, his new flame grabbed the Circus Peanut and took a bite out of it and said she loved them. I was horrified. I looked around for an airline barf bag but didn't find one. Gross. Now he knows for sure where her mouth has been.
As I often do, yesterday I was watching the CNN news while getting dressed. The news was the same old kind news program where there is ten seconds of news and fifty seconds of people crying. I prefer to listen to BBC because of the crying and mindless drivel. But I was watching CNN and dealing with the situation rather well. CNN is a favorite place for ambulance chasing lawyers to advertise for people to join some class action lawsuit against some worthy product. If you detect a hint of hatred for lawyers, and this were a game show, you would be going home with a brand new Kewpie doll. Geez, I forgot what I was saying. Anyway, I was watching CNN when an advertisement, by a ambulance chaser, came on wanting people to call this toll free number if they had taken this drug and had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or death. That line sort of bounced around in the void between my ears for a few seconds then I paid more attention to the advertisement. Sure enough, the blood suckers wanted people to call them that had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or DEATH. How does a dead person call a toll free number? I listened to the advertisement three times to make sure they wanted dead people to call. I guess dead people can't write down the number so they have to be told the toll free number multiple times. Man, I would love to meet the Einstein that came up with the content for that commercial. You betcha. This topic reminds me of a joke. What do you call 1000 lawyers marching into the ocean? Answer: a good start. I could just see Einstein The Lawyer leading the march too. I can only hope.
Walter and I were in Lowe's Home Improvement (a store like Home Depot for you Canadians) and was waiting in line to get to the register (till) when I noticed something new stacked beside the register. There was a large picture of a kid in a box similar to a tree house but the tree house was actually just a little larger than an eight year old kid. What was strange about the photo was that the treehouse looked a lot like an enclosed deer stand. The new product was a sheet of plywood material with camouflage paint on one side. Now rednecks can build treehouses for Little Johnny out of ready made camouflage material. It will save Bubba hours of hand painting the pattern onto Little Johnny's house. Bubba can spend more of his time doing enjoyable things like shooting all of the deer crossing signs in the state. I can just see Papa Redneck's toothless friends coming over and saying, " Whoo weee. That's a smart looking tree house you got there Little Johnny. We're going to have to get you a beer fridge for that treehouse." I pondered the Redneck plywood for a couple minutes and decided should I buy some it, and laid it in the grass, how would I ever find again? When I'm not pondering democrat jokes things like this occupy my mind.
As I often do, yesterday I was watching the CNN news while getting dressed. The news was the same old kind news program where there is ten seconds of news and fifty seconds of people crying. I prefer to listen to BBC because of the crying and mindless drivel. But I was watching CNN and dealing with the situation rather well. CNN is a favorite place for ambulance chasing lawyers to advertise for people to join some class action lawsuit against some worthy product. If you detect a hint of hatred for lawyers, and this were a game show, you would be going home with a brand new Kewpie doll. Geez, I forgot what I was saying. Anyway, I was watching CNN when an advertisement, by a ambulance chaser, came on wanting people to call this toll free number if they had taken this drug and had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or death. That line sort of bounced around in the void between my ears for a few seconds then I paid more attention to the advertisement. Sure enough, the blood suckers wanted people to call them that had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or DEATH. How does a dead person call a toll free number? I listened to the advertisement three times to make sure they wanted dead people to call. I guess dead people can't write down the number so they have to be told the toll free number multiple times. Man, I would love to meet the Einstein that came up with the content for that commercial. You betcha. This topic reminds me of a joke. What do you call 1000 lawyers marching into the ocean? Answer: a good start. I could just see Einstein The Lawyer leading the march too. I can only hope.
Walter and I were in Lowe's Home Improvement (a store like Home Depot for you Canadians) and was waiting in line to get to the register (till) when I noticed something new stacked beside the register. There was a large picture of a kid in a box similar to a tree house but the tree house was actually just a little larger than an eight year old kid. What was strange about the photo was that the treehouse looked a lot like an enclosed deer stand. The new product was a sheet of plywood material with camouflage paint on one side. Now rednecks can build treehouses for Little Johnny out of ready made camouflage material. It will save Bubba hours of hand painting the pattern onto Little Johnny's house. Bubba can spend more of his time doing enjoyable things like shooting all of the deer crossing signs in the state. I can just see Papa Redneck's toothless friends coming over and saying, " Whoo weee. That's a smart looking tree house you got there Little Johnny. We're going to have to get you a beer fridge for that treehouse." I pondered the Redneck plywood for a couple minutes and decided should I buy some it, and laid it in the grass, how would I ever find again? When I'm not pondering democrat jokes things like this occupy my mind.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Cancer, Aug 4, 2010
Some of the people that read this blog know that I had a doctor diagnose me with skin cancer on my scalp before we left for Canada in June. I have been quite terrified since then but didn't want to let on here. Today I went to a dermatologist that specializes in skin cancer and the like. I was standing in his examination room when he walked in. He looked exactly like I imagined and was the proper age that I thought a doctor should be which is older than me. I prefer doctors with experience over a doctor that recently gave up playing with Tonka trucks. Call me what you want but a doctor with gray hair rules in my book. Anyway, he walked in, shook my hand, and immediately began looking me over beginning with my face and then began walking around me while asking questions and listening. It was really unnerving having someone treat me like men do to women with big boobs. I wanted to tell him that my eyes are up on my face and not on my chest. Men are all the same regardless of their stature in life. Well Dr Dermatologist pulled out a pocket magnifying glass and started looking at the spots on me like I was an amoeba or a woman with small boobs. He then picked through my hair quite carefully and prodded me with more questions then announced something that I wasn't quite ready to hear. What do you think it was? Nope, I don't have cancer. I could have kissed him. It seems that the first doctor misdiagnosed cancer with something similar which I found out is not uncommon. The six weeks between doctors gave my scalp a chance to heal which in itself ruled out skin cancer as skin cancer does not heal by itself. Dr Dermatologist told me that fact and I verified it three times before I left his office. I am a very relieved man. But nothing really has changed since then other than my and Deb's concern. I am still grateful for every single day that I wake as it is a gift. I am grateful most especially for my wife and the people and little furry creatures that share in my day to day life. They are all gifts to which I truly appreciated before I was shaken at my foundation by a wrong diagnosis. My life didn't change today it went back to normal. And my closest family members know that I am truly grateful those idiot democrats are going to be out of control of the country in two years. You didn't see that one coming did you?
I was getting dressed to go see Dr Dermatologist today and the weather radio in our bedroom "went off". Today is Wednesday, and the National Weather Service tests the emergency alert system on Wednesday mornings, so I wasn't really concerned. Usually the test is the same recording of,"...this is a test of the emergency broadcast system and had this been an actual emergency then you would not really care because the democrats have already screwed up everything in our country anyway. Please dive under your bed and hide until the tornado carries your home and ruby red slippers back to Kansas." I believe that is how the announcement goes. BUT, today it was different. The announcer came on and announced it was actually a test and the message was being broadcast to certain counties in our area. At first she announced a list that included our county and the surrounding counties. But the list didn't stop there. She listed the counties down east and counties that I have never heard of anywhere in NC. Good Lord, there are only 100 counties in the state. I stopped what I was doing and my mouth hung open as she kept listing more and more counties. She kept on and on and on listing counties in NC, then she started on counties in Virginia, and that wasn't enough as she started listing "isolated townships" in Virginia. That must be one huge transmitter the National Weather Service owns. If you get too near that antenna, you could cook your Lean Cuisine while listening to the upcoming thunderstorm watch. I am not kidding, I stopped and looked at that stupid weather radio and asked myself what in the world were they thinking? I'll bet The National Weather Service got stimulus money to record that War and Peace length announcement and wanted to justify the money. Well duhhh.
We had the mega super furnace/AC inspected by the building inspectors yesterday. One was a mechanical inspector who came first and the other was the electrical inspector who arrived an hour later. Deb had the puppies locked up in her office for the first inspector's visit but when the second inspector rang the doorbell, the puppies went wild and barked themselves silly at the front door. Deb ran down and corralled the puppies back into her office while I opened the door. The inspector said hello and carefully peered around me into the hallway and asked about the barking. I kind of think he was scared of dogs a little. He didn't stay long at all and really didn't want to enter the house. His loss. The puppies would have loved to meet him. We need to get The Dog Whisperer guy to come over and whisper into the dog's ears to shut the heck up. The puppies don't listen to us. The Dog Whisperer guy might need to bring a lunch if he wanted to break the puppies from barking at people at the front door.
Walter has been dreading this moment. I got into his truck a few days ago, and I saw a Southern Living and Martha Stewart Living Magazines in the passenger seat floor of his truck. Walter told me the magazines belonged to his twin sister. Oh buddy I gave him grief over those magazines. After about ten minutes of ribbing him, Walter turned to me and said, "This is going to show up in the blog isn't it?" Come on now, I would never talk about such matters here. I mentioned the magazines to my brother in front of Walter, and my brother didn't miss a beat. He looked at Walter and told him that he knew what to buy him for Christmas, a subscription to Good Housekeeping Magazine. I'll bet Walter is more careful with his sister's magazines in the future.
See Yall Manana.
Al
I was getting dressed to go see Dr Dermatologist today and the weather radio in our bedroom "went off". Today is Wednesday, and the National Weather Service tests the emergency alert system on Wednesday mornings, so I wasn't really concerned. Usually the test is the same recording of,"...this is a test of the emergency broadcast system and had this been an actual emergency then you would not really care because the democrats have already screwed up everything in our country anyway. Please dive under your bed and hide until the tornado carries your home and ruby red slippers back to Kansas." I believe that is how the announcement goes. BUT, today it was different. The announcer came on and announced it was actually a test and the message was being broadcast to certain counties in our area. At first she announced a list that included our county and the surrounding counties. But the list didn't stop there. She listed the counties down east and counties that I have never heard of anywhere in NC. Good Lord, there are only 100 counties in the state. I stopped what I was doing and my mouth hung open as she kept listing more and more counties. She kept on and on and on listing counties in NC, then she started on counties in Virginia, and that wasn't enough as she started listing "isolated townships" in Virginia. That must be one huge transmitter the National Weather Service owns. If you get too near that antenna, you could cook your Lean Cuisine while listening to the upcoming thunderstorm watch. I am not kidding, I stopped and looked at that stupid weather radio and asked myself what in the world were they thinking? I'll bet The National Weather Service got stimulus money to record that War and Peace length announcement and wanted to justify the money. Well duhhh.
We had the mega super furnace/AC inspected by the building inspectors yesterday. One was a mechanical inspector who came first and the other was the electrical inspector who arrived an hour later. Deb had the puppies locked up in her office for the first inspector's visit but when the second inspector rang the doorbell, the puppies went wild and barked themselves silly at the front door. Deb ran down and corralled the puppies back into her office while I opened the door. The inspector said hello and carefully peered around me into the hallway and asked about the barking. I kind of think he was scared of dogs a little. He didn't stay long at all and really didn't want to enter the house. His loss. The puppies would have loved to meet him. We need to get The Dog Whisperer guy to come over and whisper into the dog's ears to shut the heck up. The puppies don't listen to us. The Dog Whisperer guy might need to bring a lunch if he wanted to break the puppies from barking at people at the front door.
Walter has been dreading this moment. I got into his truck a few days ago, and I saw a Southern Living and Martha Stewart Living Magazines in the passenger seat floor of his truck. Walter told me the magazines belonged to his twin sister. Oh buddy I gave him grief over those magazines. After about ten minutes of ribbing him, Walter turned to me and said, "This is going to show up in the blog isn't it?" Come on now, I would never talk about such matters here. I mentioned the magazines to my brother in front of Walter, and my brother didn't miss a beat. He looked at Walter and told him that he knew what to buy him for Christmas, a subscription to Good Housekeeping Magazine. I'll bet Walter is more careful with his sister's magazines in the future.
See Yall Manana.
Al
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