Do you remember the first time you uttered a swear word? I do. I was about six years old, and down the street, watching the big kids play pool. One of them missed a shot and said, "Shit."
"What's that mean?" I asked.
"Uh, that means nothing," one of the big kids replied.
When I later returned home, one of my cousins was playing cards with my sisters. I looked at her hand, and saw that she had nothing. Huzzah! This was my chance to show off my expanded vocabulary!
"You've got shit," I said, proudly.
"What did you say??" one of my sisters asked.
"I said that she has shit. It means that she has nothing." Cool, I was already getting to teach my new word to others.
I was quickly told that I was not to use that word again.
Fast forward about 20 years, to Christmastime at my mother's house. Mom and I were sitting at the breakfast room table with my four year old niece, K, while here mother, D, was in the kitchen. D dropped something and said, "Dammit!"
"Deeeeee," Mom said, pointing at K.
"Not supposed to say 'dammit,'" said K, in all of her golden curly haired, red-cheeked cuteness.
"That's right, K," said Grandma, proudly.
K then finished her thought with, "S'posed to say 'shit'!"
Cut to three adults, all turning their heads away from poor K, trying not to laugh too loudly.
Swearing kids are so cute, aren't they?
Ok, this one's not so cute, but it's kind of funny, when he's asked where he picked up his new word:
Goddammit, woman, put this kid in Time Out, already!
And of course, the ever classic:
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
He's ALIIIIIIIIVE!
Hmmmm.... Well, so much for the element of surprise. But, at least I can withhold the identity of the "He" in question until the very end.
Garrito.
Dammit!
Anyhow, Samsmama and I were chatting one night, and his name came up. He hasn't shown his lovely face in quite some time. Since he got married, in fact.
Garrito.
Dammit!
Anyhow, Samsmama and I were chatting one night, and his name came up. He hasn't shown his lovely face in quite some time. Since he got married, in fact.
Garrito's lovely face
We found him on Facebook, and each sent him a message. I didn't get a response by the next evening, so I sent a message to one of his Friends who had the same last name. She was the only Friend that Garrito had with the same last name, so I thought that maybe she was his lovely new bride. I thought it odd that she had more Friends with his family than he did, but I try not to judge. I asked her if he was still alive, or if she killed him on the honeymoon for the insurance.
The next day, I got a message from Garrito hisownself! He is aliiiiiiive! But you already knew that. *sigh*
He said that he had decided that all the time he spent on blogs and blogging could be better spent earning a living, so he had pretty much cut it out, although he still visits LOTD from time to time. He also said that his cousin now thinks that he has a stalker, "a male stalker. Ewwwww!"
So, see, Bev? That really wasn't his body that you found under my bed!
Huh. Looking at Garrito's profile for this post, I see that he doesn't follow my blog. That punk-ass bitch.
The next day, I got a message from Garrito hisownself! He is aliiiiiiive! But you already knew that. *sigh*
He said that he had decided that all the time he spent on blogs and blogging could be better spent earning a living, so he had pretty much cut it out, although he still visits LOTD from time to time. He also said that his cousin now thinks that he has a stalker, "a male stalker. Ewwwww!"
So, see, Bev? That really wasn't his body that you found under my bed!
Huh. Looking at Garrito's profile for this post, I see that he doesn't follow my blog. That punk-ass bitch.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
A memory from Senior Prom Weekend
A while back, List of the Day had a post which included the prom pictures of many of his readers. I did not submit a photo for this list.
Woodwoman, however, specifically requested that I submit "a pic from that era, at the very least..."
Never wanting to disappoint, and always willing to do the very least, that is the purpose of this post.
I can't post a picture of myself at the prom, because I didn't go to the prom. Instead, I was at a North American Series Frisbee tournament in Dallas.
While, technically, I was in college when the following photo was taken, this is what I was doing during the weekend of my Senior Prom:
My mother's reaction to seeing her loving son featured in the local newspaper?
"Your feet sure are dirty!"
Woodwoman, however, specifically requested that I submit "a pic from that era, at the very least..."
Never wanting to disappoint, and always willing to do the very least, that is the purpose of this post.
I can't post a picture of myself at the prom, because I didn't go to the prom. Instead, I was at a North American Series Frisbee tournament in Dallas.
While, technically, I was in college when the following photo was taken, this is what I was doing during the weekend of my Senior Prom:
My mother's reaction to seeing her loving son featured in the local newspaper?
"Your feet sure are dirty!"
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Search Terms
It's been fun seeing what search terms lead googlers to various bloggy friends' sites, so I thought I'd look to see how people were finding my blog. Here's a sampling:
Frank Irwin blog
world's best son (I think this one was from Mom)
Google
good book to read while I'm on the crapper
innagoddadavida baby
world's worst boyfriend (sadly, I think this was also from Mom)
spam kabobs
spam kaboobs
world's best lover (I'm afraid to see who used this one)
how to make a pizza using nothing but bread and catsup
suki suki suki suki suki suki Sue!
Make Money Fast!
sex with pregnant ladies
kdjfdkl;adi;adofadshd8ie
to infinity and beyonce
I've got nothing to say
a
b
c
d
e
f
how do I help my dog evacuate a tampon?
Frank Irwin blog
world's best son (I think this one was from Mom)
good book to read while I'm on the crapper
innagoddadavida baby
world's worst boyfriend (sadly, I think this was also from Mom)
spam kabobs
spam kaboobs
world's best lover (I'm afraid to see who used this one)
how to make a pizza using nothing but bread and catsup
suki suki suki suki suki suki Sue!
Make Money Fast!
sex with pregnant ladies
kdjfdkl;adi;adofadshd8ie
to infinity and beyonce
I've got nothing to say
a
b
c
d
e
f
how do I help my dog evacuate a tampon?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
This I've gotta share.
I was looking at "10 Funniest Wedding Fails" and this one about made me spit out my coffee.
It looks like someone was jumping the gun on getting ready for the honeymoon.
It looks like someone was jumping the gun on getting ready for the honeymoon.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
An Oral Contract
Tonight's post is inspired by a couple of Cary's GuySpeak answers and LiLu's TMI Thursday (via Bev).
And brought to you by the letters B, J, and the number 69.
It was early in my relationship with TJ when she told me that she didn't like oral sex, either giving or receiving. This bummed me out a bit, because I enjoy oral sex, both receiving and giving, but I wasn't going to let it be a deal breaker.
More annoying, however, was TJ's haranguing about my low level of assertiveness. Yeah, yeah, I'm not the most assertive person in the world, but I don't need to be constantly reminded of it, and it was something I was working on.
So, one night, we're fooling around, and she says, "You're not very assertive."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, if you were more assertive, you'd ask me for a blowjob."
"I'm not going to ask you to do something you don't like to do."
"Well, sometimes we do things we don't like for people that we care about."
"If you care enough about someone to do something for them which you don't like, you'll go ahead and do it, without making them ask you for it," I retorted. Well, ok, I didn't retort that, but I would have, if I was more, um, assertive. Instead, I just let it drop.
Some time later, TJ told me that if she were to get into a long-term relationship with someone, she would want to go to couples' counseling with them. I'm pretty easy-going (though some would say non-assertive), so I agreed. She wanted us to go to the counselor that she had been going to, since she met him in a movie theater.
Yes, that's right, a movie theater.
Some time before we had met, she was at a movie, and was crying at the end, as the lights were coming up. A guy who was sitting behind her put his hand on her shoulder, gave her his card, and told her that she could call him if she needed someone to talk to. I think he was just trying to pick her up, but what do I know. She started having counseling sessions with him.
This guy wasn't really a counselor, as he had no degree to say so, but at least he was up front about it, telling me that he's a "life coach." What bugged me more than anything was that most of "advice" came from people that he had seen on Oprah.
One of the things that thecounselorlife coach liked to do was to have us make "oral contracts." During one session, TJ mentioned that she didn't like riding in my car, because the A/C didn't work. The counselorlife coach asked me to make an oral contract that I would get the A/C in the car fixed. I refused to do so, because TJ preferred riding in the truck (which had a perfectly good-working A/C), and I didn't see the need to put $600 or so into the car when she wouldn't be riding in it, and I was ok with no A/C.
How's that assertiveness thing working out for ya, there, hun?
In our final session with thecounselorlife coach, TJ brought up the fact that I never asked for oral sex, and she thought that I needed to work on my assertiveness. We pretty much ended up having the same discussion that we had had months before, and the counselorlife coach asked me to make an oral contract to request blowjobs.
Well, if that's the kind of thing I have to do to make the relationship work, I guess a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. This was an oral contract that I could agree to, so I did.
As we left that session, I had only one question left unanswered.
How much should I have tipped thecounselorlife coach?
And brought to you by the letters B, J, and the number 69.
It was early in my relationship with TJ when she told me that she didn't like oral sex, either giving or receiving. This bummed me out a bit, because I enjoy oral sex, both receiving and giving, but I wasn't going to let it be a deal breaker.
More annoying, however, was TJ's haranguing about my low level of assertiveness. Yeah, yeah, I'm not the most assertive person in the world, but I don't need to be constantly reminded of it, and it was something I was working on.
So, one night, we're fooling around, and she says, "You're not very assertive."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, if you were more assertive, you'd ask me for a blowjob."
"I'm not going to ask you to do something you don't like to do."
"Well, sometimes we do things we don't like for people that we care about."
"If you care enough about someone to do something for them which you don't like, you'll go ahead and do it, without making them ask you for it," I retorted. Well, ok, I didn't retort that, but I would have, if I was more, um, assertive. Instead, I just let it drop.
Some time later, TJ told me that if she were to get into a long-term relationship with someone, she would want to go to couples' counseling with them. I'm pretty easy-going (though some would say non-assertive), so I agreed. She wanted us to go to the counselor that she had been going to, since she met him in a movie theater.
Yes, that's right, a movie theater.
Some time before we had met, she was at a movie, and was crying at the end, as the lights were coming up. A guy who was sitting behind her put his hand on her shoulder, gave her his card, and told her that she could call him if she needed someone to talk to. I think he was just trying to pick her up, but what do I know. She started having counseling sessions with him.
This guy wasn't really a counselor, as he had no degree to say so, but at least he was up front about it, telling me that he's a "life coach." What bugged me more than anything was that most of "advice" came from people that he had seen on Oprah.
One of the things that the
How's that assertiveness thing working out for ya, there, hun?
In our final session with the
Well, if that's the kind of thing I have to do to make the relationship work, I guess a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. This was an oral contract that I could agree to, so I did.
As we left that session, I had only one question left unanswered.
How much should I have tipped the
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Chasing the Tour
The local news has been talking about the Tour coming through Bryan this week, so I thought that today would be a good time to take a short ride on the bike and get out to watch the excitement. I haven't had the bike on the road since Thanksgiving, so it was a good opportunity.
The Tour, over 100 wheels strong, had overnighted just a few miles from my mother's house, and went north on Highway 6. When I was running an errand earlier in the morning, I had run into a roadblock caused by the tour, before they crossed Briarcrest. I figured that I could catch them later in the afternoon.
I got on my bicycle and headed north on Highway 6. The wind was blowing pretty strongly out of the north, giving me a good headwind. I thought that I would come upon the Tour within a few miles, but wasn't seeing any sign of them. I finally happened upon a couple of pickup trucks parked on the side of the road, with people standing beside them. Since one of them had a camera, I figured that they were waiting for the Tour to come by, so I stopped and asked them what was up.
"They couldn't get under the bridge back there," he said, "so they had to detour over to Highway 21. If you cut over there and double back, you should run into them."
I started off again, north, to the next overpass, then turned around. The tailwind was great, literally doubling my speed on the bike. I took the next exit onto 2818, and saw my first sign of the impending passing of the Tour: a gendarme on a motorcycle, directing traffic.
Feigning ignorance sometimes worked in getting around the gendarme in France, when we followed the Tour there, so I thought I'd give it a shot here.
"Bon jour, non parlo Francaise," I told the officer.
"Boy," he responded, "I don't speak none of that namby-pamby Frenchy stuff, so you just get your stretchy-pantied self and your skinny-tire bisickle off of this here road!"
I detoured off with the rest of traffic, and rode over to the Davila Middle School, where I joined other locals who had gathered to view the show.
Before too long, more motorcycled gendarmes showed up, and the caravan started showing up. I didn't hear any helicopters, which are the signal for the approaching peloton in the European Tours, but I thought that may have been due to the heavy winds. The caravan itself wasn't too impressive, consisting of more motorcycles, a few pickup trucks (this is Texas, afterall), and some trucks with "Mammoet" emblazoned on their sides.
Soon, some pretty purple trucks, accessorized with cherry pickers, showed up. They used the cherry pickers to raise the overhead wires.
Finally, what we had been waiting for, finally began to pass, at an estimated speed of 1-2mph:
(You can see more photos here.)
This was a 1.7 million pound generator being moved, at the rate of 10 miles per day, from the Port of Houston to the town of Riesel (yeah, I've never heard of it, either). It's 38 feet wide and 100 yards long. More information can be found here.
The Tour, over 100 wheels strong, had overnighted just a few miles from my mother's house, and went north on Highway 6. When I was running an errand earlier in the morning, I had run into a roadblock caused by the tour, before they crossed Briarcrest. I figured that I could catch them later in the afternoon.
I got on my bicycle and headed north on Highway 6. The wind was blowing pretty strongly out of the north, giving me a good headwind. I thought that I would come upon the Tour within a few miles, but wasn't seeing any sign of them. I finally happened upon a couple of pickup trucks parked on the side of the road, with people standing beside them. Since one of them had a camera, I figured that they were waiting for the Tour to come by, so I stopped and asked them what was up.
"They couldn't get under the bridge back there," he said, "so they had to detour over to Highway 21. If you cut over there and double back, you should run into them."
I started off again, north, to the next overpass, then turned around. The tailwind was great, literally doubling my speed on the bike. I took the next exit onto 2818, and saw my first sign of the impending passing of the Tour: a gendarme on a motorcycle, directing traffic.
Feigning ignorance sometimes worked in getting around the gendarme in France, when we followed the Tour there, so I thought I'd give it a shot here.
"Bon jour, non parlo Francaise," I told the officer.
"Boy," he responded, "I don't speak none of that namby-pamby Frenchy stuff, so you just get your stretchy-pantied self and your skinny-tire bisickle off of this here road!"
I detoured off with the rest of traffic, and rode over to the Davila Middle School, where I joined other locals who had gathered to view the show.
Before too long, more motorcycled gendarmes showed up, and the caravan started showing up. I didn't hear any helicopters, which are the signal for the approaching peloton in the European Tours, but I thought that may have been due to the heavy winds. The caravan itself wasn't too impressive, consisting of more motorcycles, a few pickup trucks (this is Texas, afterall), and some trucks with "Mammoet" emblazoned on their sides.
Soon, some pretty purple trucks, accessorized with cherry pickers, showed up. They used the cherry pickers to raise the overhead wires.
Finally, what we had been waiting for, finally began to pass, at an estimated speed of 1-2mph:
(You can see more photos here.)
This was a 1.7 million pound generator being moved, at the rate of 10 miles per day, from the Port of Houston to the town of Riesel (yeah, I've never heard of it, either). It's 38 feet wide and 100 yards long. More information can be found here.
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