Satisfied with my days efforts, I headed in. Took off my mud covered shoes. Washed up.
Decided to visit Mama Sookie and her brood. They're cute as hell right now. Just learning to walk, they take two or three steps and fall - except for Finney McFatty who has such a vast gut that he still swims instead of walking.
Sookie took a little bathroom break and began digging for China.
I continued watching the kids wrestle and walk into things.
I looked up just in time to see diarrhea come shooting out of Sookie's ass straight at my face. Kind of slow motion like on the Six Million Dollar Man. I could even imagine the cheesy sound effects as the liquid shit flew. Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do right in my eye.
Visiting time was over.
Shower time had just begun.
The next three days are expected to reach almost 50 degrees here in the outskirts of Milwaukee. I can't even begin to express my joy.
So, what will I do?
Frolic in the mud and budding trees singing songs as birds and squirrels turn to each other with amorous eyes?
The temptation to frolic is there, but I have an agenda.
Those that know me well would now think I will be outside with my hands in the dirt putting in bulbs and yanking weeds.
I shan't be.
There is a higher calling.
I will be painting the house.
Wednesday, scraping and sanding.
Thursday, priming until everything is glowing white (well, not everything. I'll leave the chipmunk and the brassy voiced blue jays alone).
Friday, the house will begin it's transformation into freshly painted bliss!
What unrestrained satisfaction I will have!
Paint! Glorious paint!
This is signed, sealed and delivered. Congress is now officially out of the loop. Not that they were really in the loop these last few months. And this isn't to say anyone should aspire to loopness. Or that having achieved loopness that one is hopeless. One is merely loopy.
Wednesday's show , which drew masssive ratings, lambasted Hayes after his departure following the now-infamous Scientology episode (banned from the air in Tom Cruise's litigious wake, full episode here) that fans of the show demand be aired lest they boycott Mission Impossible III.
In the latest episode, Trey Parker and Matt Stone depict Chef as having fallen prey to an insidious cult, the "Super Adventure Club", subsequently killing him off in a manner that would make Kenny jealous. This after having carefully avoiding the subject for years.
Parker explains, "To be honest, what kept us from doing it before was Isaac Hayes. We knew he was a Scientologist and he's an awesome guy. We're like, 'Let's just avoid that for now.' Finally, we just had to tell Isaac, 'Dude, we totally love working with you, and this is nothing personal, it's just we're South Park, and if we don't do this, we're belittling everything else we've ripped on.'"
But today, FoxNews reports that Isaac Hayes has been in the hospital since Jan. 17th, following a stroke, and never issued a statement. Apparently, the Scientology Center issued it "for" him.
Defamer sums it all up more eloquently:
"While likening Scientology to a "fruity little club" may be funny in a bratty sort of way, we're wondering if perhaps it's giving them too easy a retaliatory target. They are, after all, a club that helped many a conflicted little fruit kick their dangerous anti-psychotic medication habits, resolve their past-life issues, and maximize their life potential."
You can visit Dumb Laws, Dumb Crooks, Dumb Facts* and if you're bored, play Dumb: The Game
"The streets are safe in Philadelphia. It’s only the people who make them unsafe."
- Mayor Frank Rizzo
Know some dumb people with dumb birthdays coming up? Visit Stupid.com for some dumb gifts!
"I think that the film Clueless was very deep. I think it was deep in the way that it was very light. I think lightness has to come from a very deep place if it’s true lightness."
The Guardian even has a quiz devoted to the subject. Find out: How Dumb are You?
"I would like to live forever, because we should not live forever, because if we were ever supposed to live forever, then we would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever."
- Miss Alabama 1994
Visit the Museum of Dumb Highway Design.
"I have opinions of my own, strong opinions, but I don’t always agree with them."
- George W. Bush
"If we’re not supposed to eat animals, how come they’re made out of meat?"
- Tom Snyder
And now, some dumb things Yogi (The King of Dumb Quotes) Berra said:
"Well, I used to look like this when I was young and now I still do."
"Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t come to yours."
"The other teams could make trouble for us if they win."
"Congratulations on breaking my record. I always thought the record would stand until it was broken."
The pre-season of my discontent.
I need change.
You know it's going to happen; it will get warmer. The grass will green up. Insects will be flying through the air in search of nectar buzz and the earth will loosen as I put trowel to it.
But for now I've got my face pressed to the glass, steaming up my point of view, as my lower lip juts out in pure pouty dislike of this lack of movement. This adhering, lingering, demi-winter.
The crocus popped up but refuse to open their blooms.
They're like some irksome metaphor for life right now, exact demonstration of what could be but patently isn't. On the verge but not even a toe over the line into being.
Time to shut the computer down, go outside in a moderate bundle against tepid weather and shake my fist at the sky.
Writing a story for the anthology, finally have flow in the second book, have scads of reviews and I need to transcribe an interview the lovely Jon did with Robert Crais. Thankfully, Jon did not interview him in a loud, crowded restaurant as he did Cara Black.
For the record, just saying a country isn't having a civil war doesn't mean they're not having a civil war.
Some people have too much time on their hands.
And there are places to go if you do.
Below, more pics of the kids.
He'll be fine but it begs the question of non-squeamish, curious types - what the hell do you do if your eyeball falls out of its socket?
Put back in.
Daniel Engber goes into detail:
"The longer you remain in this rare condition—known as "globe luxation"—the more strain you'll put on the blood vessels and nerves that connect your eye to the rest of your head. Your luxated globes will also be susceptible to corneal abrasions or inflammation, and the feeling of your eyelids clamped down behind them won't be pleasant.
You should be able to get your eye back in place without serious, long-term damage. (If the ocular muscles tear or if the optic nerve is severed, your outlook won't be as clear.) The treatment for globe luxation is pretty simple: Doctors apply some topical painkillers, hold back your lashes, and poke your eyeball into its socket by pressing on the white part with gloved fingers. (In some cases, they'll use a simple tool like a bent paperclip to shoehorn it back into place.) You might get antibiotics, lubricating drops, or steroids to follow up for a few days while your vision returns to normal. If your doctors can't pop your eye back in—because you've got too much swelling in the socket, for example—they'll give you an eye shield and consider a more invasive procedure."And once popped, sometimes they just keep on a poppin'. Especially if you have floppy eyelid syndrome. Seriously. That's what its called.
Congress took an entire week off for St. Patrick's Day. If they stick to their current schedule — including two weeks off in April, a week in May and July, plus all of August — House members will spend 97 days in Washington this year.
“This is an election year and people want to see more of their constituents,” says House Majority Leader John Boehner, R-Ohio.
Some experts think an absentee Congress is not bad. “I don't think there's anything wrong with them being out of Washington,” says John Samples of the Cato Institute, a think tank that favors limited government. “They might be better representatives.”
Congress will make $165,200 this year.
Yes, another bad song in my head.
Worse than "Horse with No Name" but not as bad as "Seasons in the Sun,"
I'm Not Lisa
Words and music by
Jessi "Who the Hell am I; Oh, I'm Waylon Jenning's Wife" Colter
I'm not Lisa, my name is Julie.
Lisa left you years ago.
My eyes are not blue, but mine won't leave you
Till the sunlight has touched your face.
She was your morning light,
Her smile told of no night.
Your love for her grew
With each rising sun.
And then one winter day,
His hand led her away.
She left you here drowning in your tears,
Here where youve stayed for years,
Crying Lisa, Lisa.
I'm not Lisa, my name is Julie.
Lisa left you years ago.
My eyes are not blue, but mine wont leave you
Till the sunlight has touched your face.
I'm not Lisa.
A little dark blob skittering across the room.
Unlike the common depiction seen in sit coms, I did not scream and jump up on the nearest chair. As far as I was concerned, the hunt was on.
One cat, one, in a household of pampered felines, took up the quest with me. But Lady tracked the mouse down and batted at in a manner that seemed almost affectionate. She ran after it from room to room looking back at me every now and then as if to say, "Thanks for the great toy!"
But she got bored.
Hunting the mouse by myself seemed more than a little ineffective.
Tino, a long-haired cat of leisure, was beyond apathetic when I plunked him down next to it.
Sam, a tough ass, was interested but annoyed with me.
By this point, a tour of me and the mouse through the house had huge pieces of furniture moved at odd angles and lots of irked cats. It did lead me to realized I needed to clean under the refrigerator and I briefly wondered if I might hold a world record for sheer size and number of dust bunnies.
Eventually, I cornered the mouse in the dining room, behind the curio cabinet. I cornered it. Me. A big, clunky, goofy human.
It was tired. Now was the time. The time for mouse demise.
Plunking Sam next to it once again proved futile. Sam was very curious and even gave a half-hearted bat at the little rodent - but it did the unexpected. It turned around and hit back.
This put Sam off her game big time. She was clearly disgusted with herself but at a seemingly lose as to what to do about it.
I called in the big guns: Maude Gonne, a huntress of great renown in the household. She walked with swagger and loved fiercely. I grabbed her from a place in the sun and set her on the beast. She, too, gave it a small smack. And once again, the mouse hit back. A little one, two bunch and a great show of attitude.
The cats were flummoxed.
Dianne and I, watching the whole thing, were amazed and amused.
This plucky mouse deserved to live.
Dianne fetched a bowl and a record (remember those?) and I captured the Warrior Mouse. We took him outside and across the street where we set him free next to some pines.
He immediately ran across the street and headed back to the house.
"We took him out without any serious injury, with the exception of his own," said Chicago Police Sgt. Edward Dolan of the 16th District.
Doctors at Northwestern Memorial Hospital reattached Fik's penis and he was listed in good condition.
For Dianne, the story I'd told her about in awed and repulsed voice:
Thomas Hendry, a former Christchurch student, was strapped for cash seven years ago. So he dediced to do what no one else in the whole world of people would do. For doing this feat of grossness and stupidity, Handry is inlcued in the Darwin Awards book. Most would be offended. Not Hendry.
"I'm tickled pink, actually," said Hendry, now 29 and running a gothic nightclub in central Melbourne, Australia. "I am still genuinely surprised at the stir it did create. I didn't think it was that big a deal at the time."
In 1999, as a cash-strapped, 23-year-old computer trainee came up with a frankly stupid and patently freaky idea to outdo his rivals at the "How Far Will You Go?" promotion at Trader McKendry's Tavern in central Christchurch.
Hendry stapled his penis to a crucifix, poured cigarette lighter fluid over it, and set it ablaze before a stunned crowd, including his mother.
Hendry won $500 cash, an equivalent bar tab and worldwide infamy.
He went to a free students' medical centre the next day and had his burnt and bruised member dressed.
The macabre act made headlines in The Press, the police stepped in and the pub lost its licence for a week over Christmas.
Television New Zealand was hauled before the Broadcasting Standards Authority after the Mikey Havoc show screened a rerun of the event.
Hendry spent the prize money on his car, registering his bloodhound cross, Puss, and a one- way ticket to Australia.Speaking from Melbourne, where he now lives with Puss, Hendry's only regret was that he did not get live footage of his winning act or even decent photographs.
He had been inspired by an earlier contestant who pierced his penis foreskin with a safety pin.
"I thought I could do better than that."
Fortifying himself with a bottle of wine, Hendry took a white pine crucifix and, with an industrial stapler, pumped 18 staples into his scrotum and foreskin.
Hendry earned a total $2600 for his efforts, including royalties from the re-enactment and photos.
But was the notoriety worth the pain?
"Absolutely. It's a fun story to have up your sleeve," Hendry said. "I usually keep quiet about it at work when I've got a new job. But eventually something leaks out or I might let slip to someone, accidentally on purpose, just for fun. It's not something I have dropped into any dinner conversations with girlfriends' parents or anything like that. You have to pick your moment for sure."
As for the wooden crucifix used in his act, it is still getting him into strife.
On a visit to Christchurch last April he retrieved it from his mother's wardrobe (ick!). But on his return trip Melbourne custom officers found traces of borer (an icky insect), and refused to let the crucifix into the country.
"It cost me $30 ($NZ33) to fumigate it and then they released it a month later and now it is sitting in my lounge on the sideboard.
"I'll chuck it up on (internet auction site) eBay one day."
That has got to be the penis story to end all penis stories!
The gonadologists are referred to as such because of the very food they're frying. Mountain oysters are sheep testicles.
Each participant in the cook-off will prepare about 20 pounds of testicles, flown in from New Zealand. Awards will be presented for best overall taste, most creative use of flavors, best booth, best first-time cook and best presentation.
IF YOU GO
What: Mountain Oyster Fry.
When: Noon, Saturday.
Where: Bucket of Blood Saloon parking lot, C and Union streets, Virginia City.
Cost: $2 per sample.
- # Mountain Oysters are lamb testicles.
- # Rocky Mountain Oysters are the testicles of beef and pigs, also known as Prairie Oysters.
"The administration has failed every year to convince Congress to give energy companies access to the refuge, which is a key part of the White House's national energy plan.
The refuge, which is home to a variety of wildlife such as polar bears and migratory birds, stretches across 19 million acres in the northeast corner of Alaska. But the White House only wants to offer 1.5 million acres
in the refuge's coastal plain for oil and natural gas exploration leases.
The Interior Department estimates the refuge could hold between 5.7 billion and 16 billion barrels of recoverable oil.
If the refuge was opened to drilling, it would take about eight years before the area reached full production of around 800,000 to 1 million barrels per day, according to the Energy Department."
The Secretary of Health and Human Services this weekend told Americans what they should have in case bird flu strikes: powdered milk and canned tuna under your bed
"Powdered milk and a can of tuna under my bed," a woman on the Grove told KBCI Local 2 News. "And what will that do?"
"Under my bed?" a man wondered. "I don't have it in my bed but I have it in my cupboard."
No one we spoke to in downtown Boise seemed to be doing anything should an outbreak occur.
"Am I prepared for the bird flu?" a man on Main Street asked. "I don't think anyone's prepared for the bird flu. I don't even know what the bird flu is."
"I'm not prepared, no," a woman on Main Street said. "I know there's evidence that it's definitely coming this way, but I'm not prepared in any way. I'm not going to stockpile food or anything."
The Ada County Office of Emergency Management recommends stocking up with these kinds of items for 72 hours, in case of a major bird flu outbreak or any other calamity.
"These would cover any type of disaster that we face here in Ada County," Mary Barlow-Brusee told KBCI Local 2 News, gesturing toward a survival kit of food, water and assorted supplies "We believe it's all the same, it's all planning, preparedness, whether it be for an earthquake, a flood or some kind of act of terrorism or an influenza pandemic."
Barlow-Brusee said canned tuna and powdered milk do not have to be part of your survival plans.
"If you don't like tuna and you really dislike powdered milk, those would be be really bad things for you to store," Barlow-Brusee said. "You're not going to like them and you're not going to eat them."
She said while you can listen to the Secretary's recommendations, after Katrina, don't expect the government to be there in an emergency right away.
"We really try and stress to people to be as self-reliant as possible because we are going to be on our own for a while," Barlow-Brusee said.