Eff

In my sons 1st grade class there is an assignment where each kid was assigned a letter of the alphabet and the kid needs to write a few sentences using a bunch of words that start with the letter they were assigned. Why did my son get assigned F?

Speaking of eff, I have been running on the treadmill a bit lately. I actually like running on a treadmill because it gives me a little more control of the suckitude.

No, that’s not right. It actually takes away the suckitude control from me and gives it to the machine. And that is what I like.

See, on the treadmill I can pick my level of suckitude and it holds me to it. The dirty bitch. So yeah, there I am running along thinking it sucks. Over time it feels like it sucks more. After a while it feels like I must be at level suckitude +1, or maybe even suckitude+2 – but really I am still just running at the original level of suckitude. If I were running outside or riding my bike I might accidentally slow down to maintain the original level of perceived suckitude, thereby robbing myself of the level of actual suckitude that I want to maintain. On the treadmill though, I am forced to maintain the same level of suckitude. Get it?

Yeah, I know, it’s effed up. I guess what I mean is that if I slow down on the treadmill I will crash. Crashing on a treadmill would suck. Especially in public.

At least my son didn’t get assigned the letter s. That would have sucked. Literally. At least once. I would have sucked. Which I guess in first grade is probably better than the f word alternative. Oh man, I need some help.

The bike riding equivalent of the treadmill would be like if your wheels popped off if you dropped below a certain speed. Talk about suckitude.

I think it will be ok. My sons eff paragraph I mean. He does have a way with words. He made this for a girl at Valentines Day...



Yes, he does have a bit of swagger for a 6 year old.

Usually when I say 'I don't know where he gets it' I'm lying. I have an idea where he might have gotten it, but this time, this time honestly - I don't know where he gets it.

I Don't Get It

So in my ongoing quest to be cultured as hell I visited the Boise Art Museum over the weekend. I heard that they had a robot exhibit so I thought, you know, it would be a good way to share my culture with my son.

Because what 6 year old doesn’t like a good robot right?

So most of the art is paintings and photos of what people perceived robots to look like in about 1940 or something. You know, back before we figured out that robots don’t need to look like humans to do human jobs…

And that, in fact, most of the time you can do jobs better if you are not shaped like a human.

So yeah, anyway, representations of big blocky things that shuffle around when they talk they sound like Tiger Woods reading a press announcement. "I AM A ROBOT..."

I gotta say, I was a little disappointed. I didn’t see Twiki anywhere.

You know, bdbdbdbdbdbd, from Buck Rogers? The comic little robot that rocked the smart little robot around on a chain around his neck like Flava Flav rocks that big ass clock? The one with vacuum cleaner hoses for legs? No? This one…



Yeah, Twiki. He was the best robot ever. The smart robot was an asshole. How smart was he if he had to be lugged around by Twiki – jeesh, mix in a body dude.

Isn’t it funny that people in the 80’s thought that in the future people would rock shiny spandex around in public – when the only people that ever do that are people in the 80’s. And bike riders.

I started to realize that I just don’t get it when I saw a painting on the wall. It had the word ‘Robot’. Only it was in gothic font. Whoa. Not like, well, Microsoft Word could pull that one off. So I read the little plaque on the wall that tells me what I am supposed to think. Apparently it is supposed to make me reflect on Frankenstein.

Umm, dude? I read that book. Frankenstein wasn’t a robot – just bits of dead guy all lumped together and then lit up until it ran away. Oh yeah, I think he killed some people in there too.

Disappointed. No Twiki. The word Robot framed. I just don’t get it. Maybe I am not cultured as hell after all.

I knew I didn’t get it when I went in the next room where there were several water color accidents, err, pieces of art. My favorite was the white paper with the blue mark in the middle. The mark that looked like someone accidentally lay their brush down on the paper when they went to take a leak and when they came back there was an unfortunate blue mark on the paper from the paint and water that was on the brush. Yeah I liked that one. And the ones on the notebook paper that looked like someone had accidentally done the same thing (left the brush sitting there) several times with different colors. It was five ring notebook paper though. I mean, you don’t see that stuff every day.

You know what else I don’t get?

Ice dancing. Is that like figure skating for people that weren’t quite good enough to compete but were too good to quit? I mean, I am already a bit skeptical about pairs figure skating. Part of me thinks that pairs skating is only for people who weren’t quite good enough to compete individually.

So you take that (pairs figure skating), you take out all the hard stuff - you throw in some ridiculous costumes and some music with words – and you have a new sport. Well kind of.

It’s like rhythmic gymnastics. Mix in some ribbon and maybe no one will notice that you aren’t as good as the other gymnasts.

At least they look and train like athletes. I saw the bobsled racing too. The Olympic equivalent of NASCAR. I am pretty sure the driver of USA1 snuck in when The Biggest Loser visited the Olympic Training Center in last weeks episode. I am almost positive it is the dude from the red team. You know, the one with the mental wife.

Yeah, I’m like, ‘holy crap’ there’s the red team guy driving the bobsled! No really, I was. Couldn’t they just let that guy sit in the sled so we don’t have to watch him run in spandex. Maybe they could have like a pinch runner or something. That made me proud to be American.

Yeah, things like that are the reason that people in the future won’t just rock around in public wearing shiny spandex.

Pinocchio Coyote

So I said the other day I saw some proof of the effectiveness (or lack there of) of ye ole plywood coyote. Well the good news is that I got permission to post the picture and all I have to do is use the word ‘erotic’ in connection to it somewhere in the post. The bad news is that if I use the word erotic too much in my blog some people might think I was a pervert.

Which, by the way, I don’t think I am. And besides, even if I were I wouldn’t admit it on the internet because, you know, my mom might read it.

Yeah, so theres the deal. I just wanted you to know that I am taking one for the team here.



So here it is. I labeled the coyote for you. I was going to label the deer too, but if you need help with that its more help than I can provide. Besides, the picture was small so I didn’t have a whole lot of room.

Yeah, that phone makes sweat light saber noises when you wave it around, but as a camera it kind of sucks. I’m just say’n.

Anyway, you can see in the photo the deer mocking the poor coyote. One deer is standing on its hind legs showing the coyote its soft white underbelly. That’s like a predator bitch slap, showing a soft white underbelly.

The only thing more provocative than that is the erotic deer pose there in front. I mean, look at that, arching its neck and flashing its vulnerable neck in the coyotes general direction. Nothing loves a vulnerable neck more than a predator, except for maybe vampires. The old fashioned ones, not the Twilight ones. Vampires that is.

Poor little bastard. He’s gotta be thinking ‘ooooo, if I only had functional legs and jaws I would teach those pesky deer a lesson’. It ain’t easy being a Pinocchio coyote.

Speaking of Pinocchio coyotes I saw this beauty by the gym the other day…



At least I think it’s a coyote. It reminded me of Sonic the Hedgehog for some reason. That or the little Gimp logo guy. But then a hedgehog probably wouldn’t scare a goose. It would be like waddling after the geese like, ‘Come back here! I’m going to chew your wings off!’

Yeah. So anyway. That’s that huh.

Pretty soon goose hunters are going to be putting these things in front of their blinds to attract geese. The geese will see them and be like ‘hey look, there is one those Pinocchio coyote things – there must be some nice grass down there’

Not So Wiley

I changed the name of one of my dogs recently. She used to be little black dog (lbd), but she isn’t really little anymore so I had to change it. Now her name is The Black Pooper, or The Black Crapper if you are so inclined. I think it is much more accurate on so many levels, and really, funner to say.

Yeah, I know, funner isn’t a word. But then, I just wrote it, and you just read it – so what is it?

Speaking of poopers the latest rage in Boise seems to be putting up fake, um, coyote – things to allegedly scare away geese. We got a few at work a while back. It seems some important people would prefer not to step in goose poop. Yup, more geese is better – more goose crap? Not so much.

But anyway, so yeah, we got a couple of these bad boys…



Note some smart ass customized this one with a tongue. No, it wasn’t me. Smart assedness abounds at my place of employment.

I also wanted to mention that I pretty much had to wade through goose shit to get the picture.

Nice huh? Well yeah, I know, not really. Doesn’t even look like a coyote. More like an African wild dog if you ask me. That, or maybe the hound of the Baskervilles – that’s what comes to my mind every time I see the damn thing. The Hound of the Baskervilles.

I was riding my bike home the other day and saw some custom coyotes at the water treatment plant along the gb. First, there was this one…



Which I really think looks like a moose. A moose or a strangely erotic coyote. Wouldn’t it be great if all the fake coyotes backfired and started attracting really annoying things like, well, coyotes. Or wolves. That would be sweet.

I wonder how many hits my blog will get from because I just said erotic coyotes.

So they also had this one…



I guess this one looks pretty good. Kind of fat, but otherwise very much coyote-ish.

The last one creeped me out…



I’m not sure if it is the strangely pointy nose, the devil like pointy ear – horn things, or the feet, which to me look a lot like hooves.

I don't know if it works on geese, but it did work on me. Gave me the heebeegeebees - hopped on the bike and left. It's like an ancient indian burial ground or something.

I do know they don't work on deer. A co-worker took a nice picture of some browsing deer standing by one of our coyotes today. I would show you, but that would be like pirating - and lord knows, I wouldn't do that.

The coyotes are coming! The coyotes are coming!

Be Generous!

=>



Your tax deduction could be someone elses best chance at getting laid.

Plumbing for the Holidays

So I went all plumber the other day and cleaned the drain in one of our bathroom sinks. It was a little gnarly. Like someone took a growler in the sink. A big hairy growler. It was more than a little bit nasty, I mean Mr. Hanky Poo couldn’t have lived in there. Who knew that if you mixed hair and toothpaste it turned into crude oil in the drain pipe?

Speaking of gnarly, my favorite holiday is coming up. Well, no, actually, not really my favorite. Columbus day is my favorite – whats not to like about Columbus. I mean dude thought out of the box and believed that the world was round, then bumps into the new world trying to prove it. So yeah Columbus rocks, but his day is my favorite because I don’t have to work and most other people do.

I guess honestly Valentines Day isn’t even second favorite. That would be Veterans Day. Yeah, because Veterans rock like Columbus – probably even more. But the best part is that I don’t have to work and most other people do. Admittedly I do feel guilty about this one, because I don’t have to work, and a boat load of Veterans do. What’s the point of having your own day if you have to work (and wankers like me don’t). Yeah, that’s a real bitch. Veterans Day should be for Veterans – but until that happens rest assured that I will be relaxing on your behalf.

I would say Valentines Day is third, but I kind of like Presidents Day too. You see, on Presidents Day I don’t have to work, and, well, lots of other people do.
MLK day rocks too. Except for the part where the insecure people of Idaho call it Human Rights Day.

So yeah, anyway, Valentines Day is right up there. Probably in the top ten, maybe.

I wonder if that stuff burns? The stuff in the drain pipe I mean. Next time…

My favorite part about Valentines Day is that every jewelry store and flower shop on the planet tries to use guilt as a sales tactic. I really like the commercials from Jared. It’s the Galleria of Jewelry don’t you know. I don’t know what a galleria is, but I know a galley is like a slave boat – so a galleria must be a boatload of jewelry for slaves. Or something like that.

They have these commercials where they make a big deal about the Jared box and say “he got it at Jared”. You know, because getting something from somewhere else is, uh, less good.

If it does burn, I think I may have solved the oil crisis. You know, the black stuff in my sink. Well, solved it until I run out of hair entirely – which may not be long now.

While I don’t really thinking that one place is superior to all others for your Valentines Day shopping I am thinking that there are some places you may want to steer clear of. Like this place that a friend pointed out the other day…



Hmm, yeah, let me zoom out a bit.



There we go.

Here you go honey, it didn’t work out so well for the last person – but I am sure it will be much better for you!

I wonder if they have Jared boxes there.

The North End, the new Garden City

I thought of something spectacular, witty, and thought provoking to write earlier. But I forgot what it was.

It's not all that surprising really considering that I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight - and forgot to make the spaghetti. Seriously I did. My wife gets home and shes like 'Where's the spaghetti?'

I'm think my response was something like this...



As close to Greg LeMond as I will ever be.

I would say that I am losing it, but that would imply that at some time I had it - which might not actually be the case.

Speaking of when I had it, my 20 year class reunion is coming up. I get an e-mail like everyday from classmates.com trying to get me to pay to see who looked me up. I don't know how they got my information, I must have signed up in a weak moment - either that or google sold it to them.

Anyhow, I find it kind of amusing that they think I would pay money to find out about people that I would have paid to get away from at one point. I guess it must work on someone though, eh? Look at me, I'm Canadian.

Speaking of amusing, did you see this...

Boise felon arrested after police find 20 guns, 5,000 rounds of ammunition in his home

Whoa,20 guns. Thats like one for each digit. And 5,000 rounds - that's like enough to invade Grenada. Twice. Or enough to supply Boise PD for about 5 shoot outs.

Speaking of, how did this guy not get shot by the Boise PD?

I like the part how they act like its a mystery how a guy with prior convictions for robbery and grand theft got guns. Yup, bought them at Wal-Mart.

I must say that I was surprised to see it happened in the north end, and not Garden City.

Maybe tomorrow I will remember my spectacular idea or even come up with a new one. I wouldn't count on it though.

I will remember the spaghetti however.

Little Angry Cyclists

So the other day I was contemplating my fitness. My evolutionary fitness, that is.

Yes, it has come to that point in my life where I must ask myself if I have produced enough little angry cyclists. From a parenting standpoint the answer to that is most definitely yes. I struggle with one, two may be impossible, let alone three.

From the entertainment standpoint I am thinking probably. Probably enough little angry cyclists. But I have got to say, nothing, and I mean nothing - is more entertaining, unpredictable, and enjoyable than an offspring.

So yeah, I am pretty content with that stuff - but then there is the evolution thing. The way I understand it, the more little angry cyclists I produce the more evolutionarily fit I am. You know, so my little angry cyclists each produce their own little angry cyclists, and they theirs, and so on and so forth until there are so many little angry cyclists and they are all so inbred that they can only mate with other little angry cyclists then we have a whole new angry cyclist species. Then I am evolutionarily fit.

Scary, I know.

I am not doing so stellar. I only have one little angry cyclist. I thought I was being responsible and intelligent only having one. It turns out responsibility and intelligence have nothing to do with evolution. It's all about how many little angry cyclists you can make. I guess that is why the urge to, well, you know - is stronger than the urge to do stuff like study and pay bills.

It's all little disappointing. Evolution was rolling along well till humans came along. I mean we even have surgeries to help prevent evolutionary fitness, which is how I got started thinking about this in the first place.

Isn't it ironic that the people with the 'Jesus fish eating the Darwin fish' on the back of their vehicles are usually driving SUV's or mini-vans with 8 kids inside? Don't you think? It's like ra a ain on your...

Sorry.

And I don't know if rain on your wedding day is ironic. Crappy yes, but ironic? Not so much.