Hey y'all! You know I haven't posted anything here since 2006? Whoa! That's a really long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. There are lots of reasons for this...which I won't bore you with. But this dude whose name is either Tripp or Garin D. (or maybe both) stumbled into my psychotic world and posted a comment. I think he's from Australia because he said, "G'day", which is Australian for "bugger off"...I think. Anyway, he commented and it was a nice comment too, which is unusual for me.

Thanks, Garin D. Tripp! I appreciate the kindness. And now I have you, trapped in a world of delusional rantings and opium dreams. Well, not really opium dreams. I only said that because I thought it sounded funny. I've never smoked opium. As far as you know.

But to my point. I have another blog which I have also failed to post in, but that one has posts from 2008, so at least its marginally more relevant to today's modern world of the future of tomorrow (like EPCOT). Since I don't have time to post in two blogs, but have a little tiny urge to post in one occasionally thanks to Crocodile Garin D., I'll post a link here to the other one over there (it's at Live Journal, btw). And then maybe, just maybe, I'll start posting again.

Or go back to sucking down brown liquor by the gallon. One or the other.

Here's the link for those who care (hi Mom!): http://iwill333.livejournal.com/

Ramblin' Man

I was just commenting on my blog in a forum today. See how computer savvy I am? Blogs and fora and…mine sweeper.

Anyway, upon commenting, I realized I hadn't posted anything here in a while. I know you all missed me, and I think Google was upset that I was using up one quintillionth of one percent of one server storing old entries and not adding new ones, so I'm back! For a minute. Got stuff to do, you know.

What stuff? you ask. Well, there's laundry and cleaning and balancing the weight of the world on my shoulders. Okay, I guess I can give up that last thing. But then there's all this writing I need to work on. I'm actually writing a novel (insert eye roll and groan here). Yeah, yeah, zillions of people are "writing a novel". Well you know what? I am writing a novel, so there. I've got almost 5 or maybe even 6 – yes 6! – pages finished. Well, if you count the doodles.

I'm also working on that hollywoodshallows.com thing I told you all about. I say "you all" as a colloquialism, and not because I think anyone but Mom is reading this. And maybe not even Mom. Anyway, don't try the link, it's not live yet. And don't go telling people that I make up web sites that can't be linked to and pretend they're mine. Yeah, I hear things. Word gets around.

And then I intersperse that writing with short story. That's not a typo. It's not plural. Ahh, well. Let's see you do better.

Wow, this is one of the most rambling blog entries I've ever done. Do you like it? Let's see you do better.

See, this is why you should never write your blog entries while drinking rubbing alcohol.

So, this was pathetic. I'm going to post it anyway. For those of you reading my blog for the first time, scroll down to the good entries. There are some. Really. There are.

Well good night everyone. Don't forget to tip your waitress, and drive safely!

Survey Says...

A friend of mine sent me one of those "How well do you know your friends?" email questionnaires today. I decided to respond with silly answers. Yes, me. I did that. I know you find it hard to believe, but I did. Anyway, I thought I would post it here for fun and shameless self-promotion. Feel free to copy and paste anything you want (come on, you know you will!). Just please, do not fold, spindle of mutilate.

Oh, and don’t' remove the mattress tags. That's illegal.


Questionnaire

Welcome to the new edition of getting to know your friends. Okay here's what you're supposed to do, and try not to be lame and spoil the fun! Just copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste into a new e-mail that you can send. Change all the answers so that they apply to you. Then send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person that sent it to you. Some of you may get this several times. That means you have lots of friends.


1. What is your full name? His Royal Highness, Donald of Sarcasia
1a. What are your nicknames? Dipwad, Hey You, Move I Can't See the TV
2. What color pants are you wearing? Pants?
3. What are you listening to right now? The voices in my head, Queen on the radio
4. What was the last thing you ate? Crow
5. Do you wish on stars?No, it's too hot. I wish at home.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Flesh tone
7. How is the weather right now? Oval
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Phones are of the Devil
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? In what way?
10. How old are you today? Today, I think I'll be 12.
11. Favorite drink? Nectar
12. Favorite sport? Thumb wrestling
13. Hair color? Where?
14. Do you wear contacts? Yes, but not in my eyes.
15. How many siblings? Not sure. Dad got around.
16. Favorite month? Gregorian or Celtic?
17. Favorite food? Pez, haggis, communion wafers
18. What was the last movie you saw? Maybe you should ask "What was the last movie that saw you?" Don't you think?
19. Favorite day of the year? This year? Well, for this year, so far, I would say February 11th was pretty good. But in general, I like Wednesday during the third week in May, or any Saturday in November.
20. What do you do to vent anger? Can't say - court ordered gag.
21. What was your favorite toy as a child? A large, hollowed-out tree stump named Bob.
22. Favorite is Summer or winter? Most of the time, yes.
23. Prefer hugs or kisses?Don't care for Hershey products. I like Milkyways the best.
24. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate or vanilla what? Body rubs? Cologne? Toothpaste? Socks? It all depends.
25. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Hey, don't make me the heavy, man.
26. Who is most likely to respond? The voices
27. Who is least likely to respond? Jennifer Aniston. She never answers my letters, emails, phone calls, or even when I dance naked in front of her house.
28. When was the last time you cried? Last week, in front of Jennifer Aniston's house. But the LAPD didn't have to use that taser.
29. What is under your bed? Why, what have you heard?
30. Who is the friend you have had the longest? My imaginary friend, Mr. Hugs and Touches. He's come to my room at night for as long as I can remember. At least, I think he's imaginary...He is, isn't he? Um, I need to call my therapist again.
31. What did you do last night? Dug a shallow grave for...well, never mind what for.
32. What are you afraid of? Spaghetti-O's, trout, loud whispers, aluminum foil, anything orange, grass seed, Inuit whale-oil lamps, paper clips (if they're straightened out), lederhosen, game shows, Times New Roman 16 point font, frozen waffles - well, the list is just too long to continue.
33. Plain, buttered or salted popcorn? Cold, unpopped kernels in sausage gravy.
34. Favorite car? My mother
35. Favorite flower? Whole wheat, but white works better for pie crusts.
36. Number of keys on your key ring? It depends upon how you feel the universe is structured. Quantum Physics tells us that everything exists in an infinite number of potential realities simultaneously. So in that sense, my key ring contains an infinite number of keys.
37. How many years at your current job? Technically 7, on the books, but only about 2 of actual work.
38. Favorite day of the week? See question 19 above
39. What did you do for your last birthday? Performed a self-appendectomy.
40. How many states have you lived in? 3 - confusion, anxiety, heightened awareness
42. What do you collect? Discarded french fry boxes, lint, loud noises.

Where's Don?

If it seems like I haven’t been around here lately, it’s because, well, I haven’t.  I’d like to apologize to my adoring fans – both of you.  Really. I mean it.

It seems that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I can’t even spit any of it out.  I’m not complaining, mind you.  I’m enjoying my busy-ness, but it doesn’t leave much blog time.  I’ve been writing articles for a site called howtodothings.com, which has been good, but I keep ending up with these deadlines.  I’m not used to deadlines.  On top of that, I’m collaborating with a writer from Australia on a choose-your-own-adventure serialized book that we hope to have published at thedeepening.com – if they accept it of course.  

I’m also working with a partner back home on a website that we hope will be entertaining, funny, and lucrative.  It’s not up yet, but it will be called hollywoodshallows.com.  Keep a look out in the future for this amazing new website from the creators of writepassage.blogspot.com, The Simpsons, and Family Guy (OK, maybe not those last two).

Top that off with my own individual stories and projects, and a 3 month, on-going battle with the Superintendent of Schools and the Board of Education to get a certain administrator investigated, and perhaps given corrective action.  (Names withheld to prevent ambulance-chasing societal leeches from finding a target).  It’s been a busy summer!

So with all that said, dear reader, please know that I love me as much as you do, and I will do whatever I can to give to the world what it wants most – me.

Hammer Time

Ever had anyone come to your house to “give an estimate” for custom window replacement?  Now here’s a way to completely waste four or five hours of your life.  Since my wife and I have owned our house, we’ve probably had three or four different companies give us their pitch.  Why? you ask.  I don’t really know – I think maybe we’re stupid.  But, if you’ve never had a window guy come to your house, allow me to share my pane.

The first thing these window guys do is arrive with this charming, happy attitude – like selling windows is more fun than watching Paris Hilton fall to her death from a 38 story building – and try to be your pal.  They pet the cat, ooh and aah over kids’ drawings on the refrigerator, laugh at the pain inflicted by your son and his Bob the Builder pliers, take out your garbage, wax the kitchen floor, and clean your sink trap.  The plan is to soften you up for the big sales pitch.  But not just yet, not just yet!  

The next step is to bring a portable window-in-a-suitcase assembly into your house to show you the Argon gas between the panes.  Argon gas is invisible to the naked eye, but they have to show it to you, and tell you how it stops over 90% of all the sun’s rays (so your cat doesn’t fade), and helps keeps your home at a constant womb-like temperature of 37 degrees Celsius year round.  Then, just to show you how strong these windows are, they hit the portable window sample with a hammer.  It’s important for a window to be hammer-proof.  It really is.  Why, I can recall this time my wife and I were practicing our hammer juggling act, with five pound sledges… But I drift.  

After the window hammering, they bring out this big book of infra-red pictures that show houses losing heat through their windows, complete with testimonials by home owners who, since purchasing these windows, have never had a problem with hammers.  These testimonials also attest to the fact that since the home owner had them installed, his heating bills have dropped 134%.  The utility company actually sends him money.  And it is at this point that the window guy asks, “If I could show YOU how you could save 134% on your fuel bills, would you want to know more?”  This is a question designed to get you to begin answering “yes,” and to make you feel stupid for not already having these windows.

They will continue to ask you questions designed to elicit “yes” responses for the next 15 minutes.  “If I could show you how to keep more of your paycheck each month, you would be happy about that, correct?”  “If I were going to give you a check for $10,000 dollars, you’d like that, right?”    “If I could beat myself to death with this hammer, you’d giggle like a school girl, wouldn’t you?”  

The point of this exercise is you are so stupid that if you say “yes” enough times in a row, you won’t be able to stop saying yes when the big pitch is thrown.  “You’d like to give me a large check for work that won’t get done for at least six months, wouldn’t you?”

Once all the testimonials and yes-response questions are completed, they measure all your windows so you can – finally – get that estimate they’ve been promising for three hours.  As they measure, they shake their heads solemnly, and make that “tsk” noise so you understand how truly awful your windows are.  And then they cap it by telling you that your current windows are a “non-standard” size.  Uh oh.  The difference between standard sized and non-standard sized is, well, size.  That’s it.  Since they are “custom building” your windows anyway, it’s really moot whether or not they are standard sized.  But this is how they soften the blow that will hit you square between the eyes when they tell you how much it will cost.  I don’t know what they told you, but they told me $25,000.  Yes, a 25 followed by three zero’s.  Invisible gas and hammer protection doesn’t come cheaply.  Of course, I purchased my entire house for $17.50. The hammer cost more than that.

But here’s the real trouble.  When you tell these guys that $25,000 for windows is not economically feasible at this time – thanks, but no thanks – they sit down.  They just sit there and refuse to leave.  This is because they now have to call Bill back at the home office, and explain that you said no, and look all shocked and sad about it.  And then Bill has to speak to you, and ask you if Window Guy told you about the Argon.  Yes.  Did he tell you about the hammers?  Yes.  Did he show you the pretty picture book? Yes.   OK, well what if we knock 10% off that price?  Will you buy then?  No.  How about we finance it for you?  Window Guy has an application you can fill out.  No money down.  No payment for 12 months.  Only 29% interest.  NO!   Well, okay, I’m sure sorry to hear that, but you seem to have made up your mind.  Let me talk to Window Guy.  

When you give the phone back to Window Guy, Bill from the home office tells him he has to sit there until you say yes.  And Window Guy will do just that.  There is no way to get him out of your house, other than buying his windows.  

Well, there is one other way…

Hey, Window Guy, can I borrow that hammer?

Impending Mantle of Power

So it looks like my wife and I will be co-presidents of the PTA next year. Now it’s not official yet; the elections have not been held. But as we are running unopposed, I think we have a better than 50-50 chance of bagging the big office. I guess we’ll have to wait and see – not counting premature chicken fetuses and all that.

What does it mean to be PTA president? I have pondered this for several weeks. Will we have secret service parents protecting us? Will we be driven to events in Minivan-1? Will we throw out the first pitch at the Phys. Ed. kickball game? My guess: no. The previous president didn’t do any of that, although she ran a heck of a bake sale. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what next year brings.

Friends who have gotten wind of our impending mantle of power have asked my wife and me, Why? Why did you do it? Why put yourselves through all those headaches? My answer to those nay-saying Negative Nellies is: I thought I was signing up for pottery class.

Oh, and just a warning to other school PTA’s, if we get wind of any pencils of mass destruction (PMD’s), we’re comin’ for ya.

Gotta go, I think Minivan-1 just pulled in. Affairs of state, you know…

Brownian Motion

So the boy has been developing his potty skills.  And that’s a plus.  But the downside to this is a new anal fixation.  His thoughts seem to constantly gravitate to his butt functionality as evidenced by his word choices.  Here is a typical conversation with the boy.

“Hi, boy.”

“Hi, poop poop.”

“Oh, did you make a poop on the potty today?’

“No,”

“No?  Oh well, maybe later.  What are you doing now?”

“Playing with my poop poop trains.”

“You’re playing with Thomas?  Good.  You know you can earn your stickers to get a new Thomas when you poop on the potty?  Would you like that?”

“Yes!”

“Great!  Do you have to poop now?”

“No.”

“Alright.  So, what else did you do today?”

“Ate lunch with Mommy poop poop.”

Ignoring the poop poop reference, “What did you have for lunch today?”

“Poop poop chicken and poop poop noodles.”

Unable to ignore the poop poop reference any longer, “Well that sounds good, but let’s not talk about poop unless you have to sit on the potty, OK?”

“OK, poop poop.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Watching Dora poop poop.”

“On, Dora and Boots and Diego?”

“Diego poop poop.”

“And Swiper the Fox?”

“Swiper, no pooping!”

“Boy, what did Daddy just say about the poop talk?  Let’s not talk about it unless you have to sit on the potty, OK?”

“Poop poop.”

“Boy…”

He runs screaming from the room, “Poop poop poop poop poop poop poop poooooooop!”

What then happens is he runs and hides for a while.  His eventual return is proclaimed by the unmistakable odor that precedes him, and punctuated by something that looks like a tennis ball in his pants.

“Boy, what’s in your pants.”

“Poop poop”

Well, at least this time he’s using the euphemism in context.