What Good Luck, What Bad Luck

I usually tell people that my favorite book of all time is Great Expectations, but that isn’t exactly true. It is actually second. My real favorite book of all time is a kids book called ‘What Good Luck, What Bad Luck’. I like it because it tells you pretty much everything you need to know about life at a first grade level.

You should read it. I still have my copy, but you cannot borrow it. Well, maybe if you come over to my house and read it – but you can’t take it with you.

Anyway, on one page something good happens in this kids life, then on the next page something bad happens, then on the next page something good happens, then on the next page something bad happens, then on the next page something good happens, then on the next page something bad happens, then on the next page something good happens – get it?

So here is an example.

What good luck! Mike went on a Christmas vacation!
What bad luck! He went to visit relatives.
What good luck! People in Colorado couldn’t care less about BSU football!
What bad luck! Mike left his bike in Idaho.
What good luck! Mike’s in-laws got a new HD tv!
What bad luck! They use it to watch The View.
What good guck! It snowed a foot and there was a white Christmas!
What bad luck! Mike has to run for exercise.
What good luck! Running in a foot of snow is actually kind of fun!

You get the idea. Everything you need to know is in the book, and my vacation was, well, average I guess.

The highlight was Christmas dinner. No not the food. It was when someone offered my 6 year old son some cheesy broccoli casserole and he replies with ‘That’s like giving a madman a loaded gun and a pile of crack!’

That’s Pulitzer stuff there, that is.

I don’t know where he gets it.

As good as that was, it was know where near as entertaining as my wife’s 80 year old grandma almost falling over laughing. And that wasn’t as good as the look on my mother-in-laws face (I didn’t know eyes could pop out like that in real life). And that wasn’t as good as my father-in-law spraying food out his mouth. Yeah, good times.

I would have to say that the low light was getting on the return flight sitting behind people all bedecked in new BSU gear. Ugh. But that wasn’t quite as bad as when I noticed on the flight safety card that our plane was built in Brazil. Seriously? Brazil? Um, they make airplanes there? Ooo—kay. But that wasn’t quite as bad as when the airline maintenance guy came on board before takeoff carrying nothing but a roll of duct tape. And that wasn’t quite as bad when I saw him using the roll of duct tape as a hammer to fix something in the back of the plane. That was below average.

So yeah. Everything I needed to know about life was in that book – ‘What Good Luck, What Bad Luck’.

Happy New Year everybody.

Day 3 and Counting...

Here I am going all Ivan Kilchoe from the in-laws house in Ft. Collins.

Ft. Collins, home of the world famous Screaming Peach Waxing Studio. Actually I made the part about world famous up - but there is a Screaming Peach Waxing Studio. I just thought you should know that.

Anyhow, yeah, here I am. Yea me!

I flew out here with my 142 best friends. No I didn't count, but I did figure. It was easy because I was in row 22 on the plane and there was only one row behind me. Plus the 3 angry flight attendants and the 2 drunk pilots - that makes 142 besides me.

It was an almost disappointingly uneventful flight. Except for the Montanans in front of me. Well I mean, I think they were from Montana. They were wearing sheep skin coats - you know, the leather ones with the bits of sheep squeezing out from all the seems. Plus they were pretty manly, all three of them - including the two women. Yup. Montana. I am pretty sure.

I could have asked once when I made eye contact with one of them, but I was too busy giving her the stink eye for leaning her seat back. Manly women need more room in the airline seat apparently. Apparently they are also susceptible to the stink eye, because she put the seat back up.

Good times.

Did you know in Colorado Santa has a skullet? And baby Jesus has a head full of blond hair?


Just thought you should know.

OK, gotta go. Klink is coming...

How My Dog Ate Christmas

I’m not sure why, maybe I was feeling guilty, but a while back I decided to go back and read all of the books I was supposed to read in high school, but, well, you know, didn’t.

I kicked off my little reading fest with Lord of the Flies because it has a cool title. Being lord of anything is pretty much bad ass in my book. So yeah, I read Lord of the Flies. I know it is supposed to be an allegory with symbolism and all but I don’t know if I am buying it. I think that the lesson is that everyone is a wanker. I mean, deep down everyone is a wanker. When things get stressful wankerishness comes out, and some people are better at suppressing their wankerishness. And oh yeah, if you aren’t a little bit of a wanker you might get taken advantage of (sorry ‘bout that piggy).

Maybe it’s better I didn’t read it in high school – I’m not sure how my English teacher would have taken that.

Speaking of wankers, then I read The Catcher in the Rye. For some reason I thought there would be a guy with a scythe chasing kids through a field of grain. I was a little bit disappointed. I think there was a field of grain mentioned, but no scythe. It was about a teenage boy being a teenage boy – you know, mental. Largely overrated because of the potty words sprinkled through it.

Don’t worry, I wasn’t corrupted by the potty words. Some good citizen went through and crossed out all the potty words in the book that I checked out from the library. Shit, that was close.

Speaking of potty words, I don’t have much good to say about Les Miserables. I just finished that one a month or so ago. I am not a fan of abridging books, but if there was ever a book that needed to be abridged it is this one. Holy crap! In the story the main character saves a dude by escaping a battle through the sewer system of Paris – that’s like a page worth of plot right? Wrong. There are 50 pages describing the history of the Paris sewers. That’s a lot of poo.

So yeah, anyway, that one is about an ex-convict who becomes so nauseatingly good that the cop who spends the entire book chasing him has to kill himself. Nice story. Horrible book.

Now I am reading To Kill a Mockingbird. There are some gems in that book. And a Jem too. Maybe I will write about it the next time I am out of things to say.

I’m cultured as hell now. You may recall I gave my wife season tickets to the Musical Theatre of Idaho for Valentines Day. That must have been a good gift because it has caused me pain for nearly 11 months. It wasn’t too bad considering that my wife and I were the only ones in the audience that weren’t related to one of the actors. And that all the actors are the same for every musical. And that the lead characters always have the same name last name as the person who runs the theatre.

The highlight for me was when the actor that reminds me of Ross the intern from Leno played the beast in Beauty and the Beast. Yup, the big gay beast.

Speaking of well rounded, my dog (byd) has a well rounded diet. After eating my sons homework a few months ago she ate Christmas yesterday. Turns out eating Christmas sounds crunchy, you know like chewing on a Christmas ornament. Or twelve. When do you eat Christmas? 2:30 a.m. or so, when you feel like a snack. Waking up to crunchy sounds is below average.


Say it ain’t so, not Santa!

I was worried my son would be traumatized when he saw it. When he saw it, he dryly told me I should have hung the nice ornaments higher on the tree like he did.
Thanks for that bud.

I Think I Am Going To Be Sick

One of my friends at work told me yesterday that he never gets sick. I didn’t point out to him that he had missed several days of work the previous week because, well, he was sick. Or at least that was his story.

The reason I bring it up is that I am planning on getting sick next week. I am flying to Colorado next Monday – yea inlaws! Three hours of re-circulated air with my 150 best friends in an oversized soda can. It will be so great.

So I decided that I would get my swine flu vaccine. I heard that it isn’t really a vaccine, that they are really just implanting microchips so the government can track us. After some careful consideration I decide to take the chance. I mean all the really good stuff about me they could just read about on my blog or facebook page, and if they really wanted to know anything else about me they could just buy it from google.

Right, the government is tracking your ever so interesting life. They could learn everything they wanted to know about you from the bumper stickers on your car. I mean, if you have a car.

Anyhow, so I go to the vaccine clinic. Wait in a bit of a line. This teenage girl behind me has tuberculosis or something. Lung butter abounds. I am thinking the trip may be counter productive – swine flu no, tuberculosis yes. I am not too pleased with the experience so far, but then I see this guy (the one in the middle of the pic)…


Whoa, there is a small mammal on his head! Holly crap! I’m no expert, but I think it’s a badger. Or at least it was a badger. Damn, that’s rich. Looks like Davey Crocket. Daavveeyyy, Daavveeeyyy Crocket, king of the wild frontier. Seriously, look…


As I get closer though it becomes evident that it isn’t a badger. It’s the dudes hair. I wish I had hair. It looks like Billy Ray Cyrus or Simon Le Bon. Actually I am pretty sure it was Simon Le Bon. So yeah, not a badger, just big hair. Not a mammalian tail, just mulletude.


Nice. How can you not love that.

So I get implanted. It didn’t really hurt. Its amazing how small they make microchips these days.

They make me go to the holding pen for 15 minutes, you know, in case my body rejects the chip or something. I select a seat as far away from everyone else as I can. It’s not that I am anti-social, I just don’t like people.

It was all good until tuberculosis girl and her mother come and sit near me. It’s not enough that she has tb, but she is crying as well. Seriously? Crying for a flu shot? I mean waiting in line was more painful. OMG! Besides, Simon Le Bon is there - you should be happy.

Unreal. Crying about a flu shot. I don't think her mother could believe it either. To top it of mother and daughter are sporting their pajama pants. I think there are like two, maybe three people that can pull off pajama pants in public without looking like a lazy slob - well without people noticing that they look like a lazy slob. Anyway, these two were not among that group.

The trainer calls...

Of Rocks and Trainer Time

Do you ever feel like a rock.? A rock in a river and the water running by is time and the sediment and other stuff in the water are the events in your life and that they contact you for just a moment and that even though only in contact for a moment they take a small piece of you away with them so that eventually there will be nothing left of you but a collection of events downstream in time and that the rocks around you are your friends and family that you try to stay close to but sometimes the other rocks get picked up for someones special collection and you don’t see them again and other times the water rises and there is a big flurry of events and when the water comes back down again some of your friends and family have been washed a little ways away so they aren’t as close as they used to be or maybe it is you that got washed away and other times the water goes down slowing down time and you are able to stick your head out of the water and look around with clarity for a little while but then the water goes back up? Do you ever feel like that?

Yeah, me either.

That’s what happens when you ride the trainer in your garage and your garage tv is not digital. And your DVD player is broken. You think about rocks.

Also, I am not a big fan of talking about the weather because it is what it is. Nevertheless (notice I didn’t use but), yesterday was the first time ever that I thought maybe I should have worn tights while I was riding my trainer. It was the first time I have worn gloves while riding my trainer.

More Lickers...

So I just stumbled across this...



'Facebook forms board to lick molesters'

Not just one licker, a whole board of lickers.

Um, I know they are trying to improve their service but this seems like a bad idea. Maybe even illegal. Definitely catering to the wrong group.

Fortunes

I love fortune cookies. I love the way they taste, I love the fortunes inside, and I even kind of like it when some dumb ass says 'in bed' after you read your fortune out loud.

We went out to Chinese the other day. My son got this fortune...



Do something unusual tomorrow. (in bed).

Oh god. Just what my son needs, a little encouragement. He couldn't get 'Hard work brings success tomorrow' or something like that. Nope. Do something unusual. Outstanding.

That's why I was a little disturbed when I saw that the fire department had to rescue a kid because his tongue was stuck to a pole. When I saw that I pulled out my cellie to see if they had called. Seriously, I did.

It wasn't him, but I am still holding my breath. At least it didn't say 'pick up a ho' or something like that.

Christmas Tree in the Can

I have got a big can. I really thought it was huge until I started putting stuff in it. Even then it was still ok till I started putting yard debris in it, you know, like apples and tree limbs and stuff. Now I think that it may not be big enough.

I have this tree that I want to put in there, but it won’t fit. So I have to cut bits off the tree and shove as much in there as I can each week – until there is more room again. I have been doing this for several weeks now, but I am thinking I will never get it all in the can.

You see, there is this tree growing too close to my house, so I kind of need to cut it down. Actually I mostly need to cut it down because it is on the verge of interfering with my satellite reception. Rather than cutting the whole thing down and hauling it to the dump I have been cutting limbs and filling up the trash can every week.

When I was jamming limbs in my can yesterday I had an idea. Maybe someone could use my tree as a Christmas tree. It looks like this…


I could cut it off at the appropriate height from the top and have a nice-ish Christmas tree. Maybe a little wide, but still ok – especially if you have a big house.

That would be good. It would be like recycling only different. I would be saving a wild, free roaming tree by sacrificing my domestic tree. That would make me feel green as hell, and everyone knows, I am definitely green as hell. Or something like that.

Anyway, yeah, if you are interested in my tree you know where to find me.
If you are into hiking into the woods to find a tree, I could let you hike around in my front yard for a while looking at the trees – then you could walk into my back yard and pretend to choose the tree I am offering. If you like a snowy Christmas atmosphere I could get on the roof and throw crushed ice at you. You could even pretend that my dogs were wolves. If you need to harvest one, please select the little black one – I know she is smaller, but she is much more fierce so is definitely a better trophy. So yeah, we could set it up like that.

Or if you like to go to a lot and buy a tree you could walk around my yard sizing up my trees and then choose the tree that I have available. You can give me some money and I will donate it to charity. I will even match your donation. Note, in this scenario my dogs are just dogs – so no harvest.

Or if you are into doing bad things due to the thrill of possibly getting caught you could come and steal my tree. I will turn off all the lights and try to ignore any sounds you make while stealing my tree. When you get it all loaded up I will come running out of my house with some weapon and yell ‘hey, what are you kids doing’! We can negotiate about what type of weapon, and as to whether my dogs are guard dogs, wolves, or just goofy ass retrievers. Yeah, so if you are into that we could use that scenario.

Or if you want the tree, but don’t want to act goofy I guess you could just come over and get it. We could go out and look at it, then we could go in and drink some beers while we think about the suitability of the tree and how best to cut it down, then we could bust out the power tools. I will have a video camera just in case we have an Americas Funniest Videos moment and break something. I guess we could even use my truck to deliver it. Not somewhere far away though – only the treasure valley. If I have to drive too far it would be cheaper to take it to the dump.

Yup, there’s the deal. Let me know. If more than one person wants it I will have to come up with some creative way to decide the winner. I reserve that right. I am not responsible for any wildlife that may be living in there either, I should mention that. If you have a Christmas Vacation moment it is entirely on you.

If it works out well maybe we can do it again next year. Except next year the tree will probably have to be a maple, so it would look largely like a stick in December.

Or if no one wants it I will just continue sticking it in my can.

Belated Thanksgiving

Work, family, my bikes, and a disturbing video game addiction have enforced an unplanned blogcation over the last several days. You might imagine that I would have a long list of things to discuss if I haven’t blogged for so long. I imagine you might be right, I did have a long list of things to bitch about – but unfortunately (or fortunately), I have a short memory for some things.

I do remember that Thanksgiving finally ended on Wednesday when I consumed the last of the leftovers. Yeah, that sucked. Honestly I don’t like most Thanksgiving food on the first day and my appreciation goes steadily downhill after that. I mean really – if gravy is an integral part of a meal it is probably an indication that the rest of the food isn’t that good. Because, you know, that’s what you do with gravy – cover up other things that don’t taste as good.

Anyway, it was a very thankful time. I was thankful for my family. Then I was thankful that I don’t live with them. I was thankful for 3 hour solo Thanksgiving bike rides. By solo I mean solo…



I was thankful that the next generation of my family is clearly going to be better than the current one, as indicated when my niece suggested we go around the room and say what we are thankful for. I was still giving my brother-in-law the “who’s kid is that stare” when my turn came. I gave the usual family, friends, health, blah, blah, blah thankful schpiel . It didn’t really matter what I said though, because no one was paying attention – anticipation was building over what my 6 year old son might let loose with.

I was thankful (and a little disappointed) when my son said pretty much the same thing I did. I think he sensed the general disappointment and threw in as an afterthought that he was thankful for football. And how! That brought approval from the family and covered the fact that my dad was able to skate by saying ditto.

I remember another thing I was going to right about, but I don’t know why. Why I was going to write about it. Not why I remembered it – but I don’t know that either.

Anyway, this one time when I was a kid my uncle stinky Bill the truck driver came to visit. By came to visit, I mean he got arrested when he was passing through Idaho and my parents had to bail his ass out of jail. Yeah, that rocked. While the wheels of justice slowly turned stinky Bill ate our food, and drank our beverages, but mostly just sat in the our rocking chair, watched our tv, acted like an a-hole, and stunk up the joint.

It was an ordeal. I remember my mom calling my aunt, Mrs. Stinky Bill – and indicating that she needed to get stinky Bill out of our house. I think my aunt was relieved that stinky Bill was not a her house because stinky Bill stayed at our house for two weeks.

One day my mom asked stinky Bill if she could wash his clothes for him. She did. Then she put them in a suitcase. She took stinky Bill for a ride and left him at the bus station with a ticket to stinky Billsville. That was epic. One of those secret family stories. Oops, I think I just wrote that on the internet.

eah, I don’t know why I wanted to write about that. I am sure it had some point. I will leave it to you to decide. It is kind of a thing of beauty to find your own meaning after all.