Hello people..sorry..Hello friends,
I am 99% disgusted! Does anyone understand what is going on out there?? Not me. We just had this 18 month long series of debates and elections to determine who would be the person most fit to lead our nation. Well now he's in there and in less than one month he has spent equal to 1 million dollars for for every day since the birth of Christ! When I was born, you could have bought General Motors for one million dollars! When my great grandfather was born you could have bought the entire western half of the United States of America for one million dollars! These days you can't even get a skinny blond to sing for one million dollars. Okay, I am a small thinker. If I won the lottery, I would have to give away all but maybe 5 million. Of course after five days, I guess I'd be broke, what with the cost of living. Assuming I'm just simple minded, lets say we need 700 billion dollars to right the economy. O-KAY! A diverse organization comprised of geniuses, arrived at this number. How? I'm guessing, a number this large must have been derived by utilizing a multiplying factor, like for instance, the number of nose hairs on a blind buffalo. Or is it buffaloe? Help me out, Quayle! If you were planning a project, like building a tower or a barn or an airport or something, wouldn't you account for the things you would need? How much cement, windows, two by fours, lights, asphalt, manpower etc, etc, etc? Well wouldn't you?! I guess that's what they did. Maybe they determined that this money should be used to create jobs for the same people who had lost jobs. Maybe they planned to stimulate big and small business, thereby creating those jobs. Or maybe they just listened to any crackpot who had his hand out. $40 million to study sheep burping, 60 million to protect the little picas in the desert hills from global warming. There are endless numbers of idiotic ideas being funded. You know, if they didn't need all of that money, they could just put some of it back!! But, I know of some worthy ideas! Some I have mentioned before, so I will repeat. Lucky you!
1. Build a pipeline from flood prone cities to drought prone cities. When the floods come, send the excess water to Georgia. We never have enough. Put turbines inside the pipeline to use for hydro energy.Release water into streams for trout fishing. I've never seen a trout, fishing. Or whistling. Nor have I seen a horse, fly. Olive Oil used to sing, "Did you ever see a dream, walking? Well, I did" The water could provide rapids for rafting and eventually water for drinking, for restaurants, car washes and anyone who needs it. This would be invaluable!
2. Build a wall, not a fence, but a wall, across the Mexican border. This would take years and lots of building materials and workers. This would be no ordinary wall. This wall would be of biblical proportions. It would contain housing, a mall. a jail, schools, government buildings, a stadium. If the ball goes over the wall, just leave it. It would be a linear city. You could show drive in movies on this wall. You have surveillance cameras all along and precinct stations all along the top of the wall. You have a Krispy Creme Donut shop and a Starbucks every 5 miles. If someone approaches the wall, they are first issued a verbal warning by loud speaker. Then they are shot with paintball guns, to let them know they are in range. Then, if they do not retreat. we shoot them with the real stuff. Of course they can come through proper channels and be considered for admission as legal aliens. We build a small enclosed city where they can live and work and prove themselves. Only 500 at a time can be admitted and they must remain there for one year before they are allowed to enter the Magic Kingdom of the United States of America. Yes, I think we should change that from United States of America, to the Magic Kingdom of the United States of America. The MKUSA.
3. Develop small cities to work within themselves. In my senior year in high school, I worked at a place called Grant City South. It was named after the anchor store which was Grants department store. It didn't function like a city. It was just a shopping center. But, you could build a city around a 3-story Super Fine WalMart store. You feature moderately priced apartments on the second floor. About 40% of the inhabitants would work in the store. All of your shopping needs would be met in-house. There would be a subway/elevated train for those who worked outside the complex. The first stop would be a park and ride if you chose to keep your car. The third floor would feature luxury townhomes. There would be some middle and upscale resturants, a swimming pool, a theater and tennis courts. Everything you need would be right there. What could be better? Okay, you could have WalMart By The Sea on the Florida coast.
4. Stop paying farmers to not grow stuff! Start paying them to grow things we need. If jobs are scarce and people are working for minimum wages, why can't we just give them the food and put some to work on those farms. Why can't we use this money to teach people some skills?
Okay, this is not fun reading is it? I'm sorry. I really am, but I have to write what's on my mind and humor just took a vacation. I probably wouldn't be writing at all if I hadn't just watched ............... Dead Poet Society.
It's a movie with Robin Williams and Ethan Hawke. If you are a "House" fan, Ethan is the guy who plays Wilson, the only friend of Dr. House. He always plays this conflicted, tormented, character. It's a film about this unconventional prep school teacher (Williams) who is trying to teach the students to be themselves, to think for themselves, to achieve what they are here for. Unfortunately, for most of the students, their parents have so strong of a hold on them that they can not break free and become what they ought. If you watch it, you might want to turn it off after the part where he gets the lead in a local play. It's get sad after that, but it's a good movie.
I am tired of not being funny. Right now my life is good but not very funny.
This too will pass! Good night loved ones!.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Elvis is dead and I'm not feeling so well myself!
Hello friends,
I know, I borrowed the title from Lewis Grizzard. I don't think he'd mind. I hope someone is stealing my stuff 15 years after I die! There is a Lewis Grizzard tribute show on tour now. How about that, Lewis impersonators. No relation, bytheway.
Not feeling well? I'm healthy. I just don't feel like writing, but I thought you might feel like reading. I just haven't been sufficiently disgusted lately. It's awful! I went to the dentist last Tuesday. Wendy was my hygienist again. I had a polishing appointment. First thing she asked was, did I have gas? I said, No, I've been on a special diet lately. Oh, she said would I like gas? No, I have some. I think I can get thru polishing without gas! Of course she didn't tell me she was going to do acupuncture on my gums. She took this dart and stuck it into my gums at every tooth until she either hit enamel or struck gold. Then she got the water hammer and lasered all the tartar off that had built up since the other week when I was there. No funny thoughts came to me. They were playing country music. Songs like:
I wuz datin' this gurl name Muriel,
She put Jack Daniels in her cereal.
But when she put raspberry in her tea,
Bubba, that's the last she heard from me!
Cause we don't do things like that in the South!
I wus drivin this old beater,
with jist a radio and a heater.
And I thought I'd get me a new set a wheels.
This sales gurl there named Rhonda,
Said I'd look cute in a yellow Honda
And I said yeah, and a nice pair of orange high heels.
Cause we just don't do things like that in the South!
I was powerful hungry and wanted some grub
I grabbed the waiter and said Listen Bub!
I don't want no artichoke hearts or antilope brain.
I want a Big juicy steak and make it plain
And a baked tater and Listen here, Jane!
That's the way we do things in the South!
Oh well. One of the goals of this blog was to empty my mind. I think I've gone too far! I knew this would happen.
If this one didn't tickle your gizzard, read one of the older post again!
Night y'all!
I know, I borrowed the title from Lewis Grizzard. I don't think he'd mind. I hope someone is stealing my stuff 15 years after I die! There is a Lewis Grizzard tribute show on tour now. How about that, Lewis impersonators. No relation, bytheway.
Not feeling well? I'm healthy. I just don't feel like writing, but I thought you might feel like reading. I just haven't been sufficiently disgusted lately. It's awful! I went to the dentist last Tuesday. Wendy was my hygienist again. I had a polishing appointment. First thing she asked was, did I have gas? I said, No, I've been on a special diet lately. Oh, she said would I like gas? No, I have some. I think I can get thru polishing without gas! Of course she didn't tell me she was going to do acupuncture on my gums. She took this dart and stuck it into my gums at every tooth until she either hit enamel or struck gold. Then she got the water hammer and lasered all the tartar off that had built up since the other week when I was there. No funny thoughts came to me. They were playing country music. Songs like:
I wuz datin' this gurl name Muriel,
She put Jack Daniels in her cereal.
But when she put raspberry in her tea,
Bubba, that's the last she heard from me!
Cause we don't do things like that in the South!
I wus drivin this old beater,
with jist a radio and a heater.
And I thought I'd get me a new set a wheels.
This sales gurl there named Rhonda,
Said I'd look cute in a yellow Honda
And I said yeah, and a nice pair of orange high heels.
Cause we just don't do things like that in the South!
I was powerful hungry and wanted some grub
I grabbed the waiter and said Listen Bub!
I don't want no artichoke hearts or antilope brain.
I want a Big juicy steak and make it plain
And a baked tater and Listen here, Jane!
That's the way we do things in the South!
Oh well. One of the goals of this blog was to empty my mind. I think I've gone too far! I knew this would happen.
If this one didn't tickle your gizzard, read one of the older post again!
Night y'all!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
My Day Off!
Hi guys!
I hope you remember that when I greet you as guys, I don't just mean men. That would be weird and I'm not weird! Not weird, weird anyway. I worked 4, 10 hours shifts at the end of my regular week so I could have five glorious day off! Yea-a! Here's how the first one went. It starts at 3:49 a.m. when the power goes out. So we set the alarm on our cell phones. Rusty lets us know that he wants to go outside to do his thing, which is okay, because he's a dog. I don't know what he does when we sleep all night. I guess I do! The power comes back on about 4:37. We get up at five. It's minus 19 degrees outside. We drive downtown. I let my wife out at the Emory-Crawford Not-For- Long Hospital entrance. These modern hospitals change their names more than Elizabeth Taylor. She'll have the baby and I'll pick her up about 11:30 for lunch. Kidding! I forgot to mention, she was getting a lap band! I was against it at first, but then I realized it was not anything like a lap dance. I'm still not sure what that is. They don't do those at Chili's! Fortunately! One of the waitresses there reminds me of the Ma Kettle look-alike that was my first stewardess on an airplane. Since they don't have those in taxis. I let her out of the car and using my keen senses, I back up, to go around the car parked in front of me. I back into an Acura or something. Our plastic fenders kiss, a lingering kiss, until I pulled forward a little. A short, well dressed older (than me) fellow jumps out and says what are you trying to do? So, I silently wonder if he is a doctor. I explain that my cabin cruiser has a trunk height of about five feet, while his headlights barely miss the ground, therefore, it being dark, I did not see him. The other explanation would have to be, that I knew he was there, and being "Wild at Heart" or under heavy sedation I decided to push him out of the way, because my day was just not exciting enough. Anyway, he softened up like a teddy bear. He said, I think your car is okay. Well, lucky for you..my lawyer is hungry and will eat you alive! We actually developed a nice relationship. Nice running into you, Vince! Next time, we'll do breakfast. I then proceeded the wrong way into the parking garage. If you know me, that's my basic MO. It was easily corrected. The cones weren't important anyway. I find a parking space and begin trying to find my way into the building. Being a manly man, I take the stairs. Each flight has a door with a sign describing what is on the other side. Very confusing. I finally get to one and find the secret door to the building. Maybe if I played video games, I would be better at this, Shoot all of the people - run around the corner - shoot those people, get on the elevator. They have very nice, well made signs at the elevators on each floor. I know because I read them all. I'm trying to get to the "L" floor. The elevator only goes to K. So I think maybe it isn't an "l" but an "I". Nope, that's not it. I finally see that you must cross the bridge on the "F" floor. So I do. Then I attempt to go up to the "L" floor. Only the "L" floor is down for "LOBBY". People are walking through the hallways and getting on elevators, so I play, "guess who the doctor is" My personal MD looks like a doctor. He is a kind older Christian gentleman. I like him. He's everything you want a doctor to be, except punctual. I guess he could take less patients, but then he would have to charge more money. It's a matter of whose time is worth more, mine or his. I guess, his. I finally find my place. I wait for two hours. That's 120 minutes or 4 sitcoms. Only there's no TV. Just this big plasma screen like the airports have, showing patient status, only I have no clue how to read it. Arrivals, I understand would be new babies! But departures are a little unnerving! There were a couple of Whoops! And one, "Hey y'all watch this"! I got to go back for about five minutes to see Cheryl before she went to surgery. There was a guy with some sort of a motor head doo-rag on his head putting an IV in her arm and making small talk. That could be his Harley parked out by the men's room. A lady joined the group. Could she be the doctor? Nope, maybe the social director. She said they planned to have about fifteen spectators in the room for educational purposes, perhaps to spur them into a life of medical majesty! They would get better results if they toured the doctors parking lot where all of the BMW's and Hummers and Ferarris are parked. Then do a tour of homes and view vacation slides on the big plasma screen. Instead they all piled into the OR to watch this thriller! They probably had Varsity chili dogs and rings all around, with FOJ's for everyone! Pass the onions. Hey, you got mustard on my thorax splitter! Okay 5 hours or so later I got the beep. You get beepers, just like Chili's. Then you go to the phone and they tell you how to get there. I got lost again, but otherwise I would never have seen a colonoscopy. Bytheway everyone should go on a liquid diet at least two weeks before having one of those! The Varsity chili dogs didn't help either! When I did find Cheryl she looked just great! First thing I wonder is how much weight she has lost so far? She gained about 6 pounds because they make you drink 3 liters, or do they just pour it in through one of the seven incisions (The Magnificent Seven). I suppose we could play connect the dots later. They pump your abdomen full of air. Helium would be even better. I'd like to see that! Then they stick a TV camera in there and some other things including an innertube thing that you can add water to and make it smaller! I wonder if the doctor has a private stock of OR bloopers. I need doctor friends. The doctor said he would give me a fifteen minute head start to pull the car around. Ha ha! I can do it in five! I find the car with no trouble. Of course I am carrying a black ladies purse, make that a ladies black purse which goes well with my slimline black shirt. I wonder should I put it in the bag, so it doesn't look suspicious. Then I decide it would look even more suspicious if people see me trying to hide it, so I don't. I find the car, no problem, pay and exit the parking deck, no problem! But then I find myself on the street behind the hospital, with no mapquest or GPS and only 4 minutes to go. I feel naked! Okay, I figure I'll just drive to Buckhead, turn around in the Lenox parking lot and swing right back into the Emory-Crawford Not-For-Long Hospital entrance. I slide in right on time. We get my wife back in the car. the rest of the evening is pop sickles, jello and Lojack Elixir. That stuff puts you out.
In case you're really concerned about Cheryl, she is fine! The doctors said she did great! The procedure went well. It's a little hard to get up and down and walk after playing mumbly-peg on your stomach. I will be home with her the next 4 days and am grateful for the opportunity. There are plenty of other things that could be written, but I enjoy sleeping with both eyes closed, so I let it be! The hospital gets top marks, even though they are a little hard to navigate. I would not hesitate to go there again, as a visitor. When the doctor did come out, he looked like a guy that would work in a home theater store or something. And if you have no idea what mumbly peg is, it probably isn't what you think. In the mid evil days, when I was in Junior High, we played this game where you faced your opponent, about two feet apart. You then pulled out your pocket knives and took turns throwing them near your opponents feet. I think you had to move your foot to where the knife landed or something. I'm not sure what the point of the game was, but I think part of it was to show how brave (translate stupid) you were and to not get your foot pinned to the ground. Also you were to show how expert you were with the knife. Some adult usually objected before medical attention was required. A knife was no more unusual to have in your pocket than a comb, which proved more injurous than any pointed instrument! We played some game where you balanced a comb on the back of your hand and the opponent tried to grab it and scratch your hand with it before you could pull it away. After 4 or 5 scratches, it got pretty ugly. How's that for a oxymoron? I practiced the art of knife throwing at home with a 7" bowie knife. I bought this knife because my locker-mate who had the same birthday as mine, September 15 (write that down y'all), would buy anything. I brought it to school once to show it to him. This kind of knife, you don't take to school! He stuck it up on the homeroom teachers desk! Of course it was removed before she got back. My parents found out I had bought the knife for the purpose of selling, and made me keep it. So, I practiced throwing it at an oak tree in our front yard. Over time, I made a whelp about a foot wide and two feet tall. I never learned to throw it properly, but even if I hit you with the butt, it could knock you out! About 35 years later my dad mentioned something about that tree in our front yard that became diseased , so I had to clear it up for him. One of the most difficult words to spell phonetically in the English language is "diseased". It is almost a conundrum, which is also hard to spell. I'll bet you could spell it 10 different ways and it would still be pronounced dee-zeeze.
Done now?
Hope you have a nice night. I plan not to get up before 6:30 am this time!
Love you all!
I hope you remember that when I greet you as guys, I don't just mean men. That would be weird and I'm not weird! Not weird, weird anyway. I worked 4, 10 hours shifts at the end of my regular week so I could have five glorious day off! Yea-a! Here's how the first one went. It starts at 3:49 a.m. when the power goes out. So we set the alarm on our cell phones. Rusty lets us know that he wants to go outside to do his thing, which is okay, because he's a dog. I don't know what he does when we sleep all night. I guess I do! The power comes back on about 4:37. We get up at five. It's minus 19 degrees outside. We drive downtown. I let my wife out at the Emory-Crawford Not-For- Long Hospital entrance. These modern hospitals change their names more than Elizabeth Taylor. She'll have the baby and I'll pick her up about 11:30 for lunch. Kidding! I forgot to mention, she was getting a lap band! I was against it at first, but then I realized it was not anything like a lap dance. I'm still not sure what that is. They don't do those at Chili's! Fortunately! One of the waitresses there reminds me of the Ma Kettle look-alike that was my first stewardess on an airplane. Since they don't have those in taxis. I let her out of the car and using my keen senses, I back up, to go around the car parked in front of me. I back into an Acura or something. Our plastic fenders kiss, a lingering kiss, until I pulled forward a little. A short, well dressed older (than me) fellow jumps out and says what are you trying to do? So, I silently wonder if he is a doctor. I explain that my cabin cruiser has a trunk height of about five feet, while his headlights barely miss the ground, therefore, it being dark, I did not see him. The other explanation would have to be, that I knew he was there, and being "Wild at Heart" or under heavy sedation I decided to push him out of the way, because my day was just not exciting enough. Anyway, he softened up like a teddy bear. He said, I think your car is okay. Well, lucky for you..my lawyer is hungry and will eat you alive! We actually developed a nice relationship. Nice running into you, Vince! Next time, we'll do breakfast. I then proceeded the wrong way into the parking garage. If you know me, that's my basic MO. It was easily corrected. The cones weren't important anyway. I find a parking space and begin trying to find my way into the building. Being a manly man, I take the stairs. Each flight has a door with a sign describing what is on the other side. Very confusing. I finally get to one and find the secret door to the building. Maybe if I played video games, I would be better at this, Shoot all of the people - run around the corner - shoot those people, get on the elevator. They have very nice, well made signs at the elevators on each floor. I know because I read them all. I'm trying to get to the "L" floor. The elevator only goes to K. So I think maybe it isn't an "l" but an "I". Nope, that's not it. I finally see that you must cross the bridge on the "F" floor. So I do. Then I attempt to go up to the "L" floor. Only the "L" floor is down for "LOBBY". People are walking through the hallways and getting on elevators, so I play, "guess who the doctor is" My personal MD looks like a doctor. He is a kind older Christian gentleman. I like him. He's everything you want a doctor to be, except punctual. I guess he could take less patients, but then he would have to charge more money. It's a matter of whose time is worth more, mine or his. I guess, his. I finally find my place. I wait for two hours. That's 120 minutes or 4 sitcoms. Only there's no TV. Just this big plasma screen like the airports have, showing patient status, only I have no clue how to read it. Arrivals, I understand would be new babies! But departures are a little unnerving! There were a couple of Whoops! And one, "Hey y'all watch this"! I got to go back for about five minutes to see Cheryl before she went to surgery. There was a guy with some sort of a motor head doo-rag on his head putting an IV in her arm and making small talk. That could be his Harley parked out by the men's room. A lady joined the group. Could she be the doctor? Nope, maybe the social director. She said they planned to have about fifteen spectators in the room for educational purposes, perhaps to spur them into a life of medical majesty! They would get better results if they toured the doctors parking lot where all of the BMW's and Hummers and Ferarris are parked. Then do a tour of homes and view vacation slides on the big plasma screen. Instead they all piled into the OR to watch this thriller! They probably had Varsity chili dogs and rings all around, with FOJ's for everyone! Pass the onions. Hey, you got mustard on my thorax splitter! Okay 5 hours or so later I got the beep. You get beepers, just like Chili's. Then you go to the phone and they tell you how to get there. I got lost again, but otherwise I would never have seen a colonoscopy. Bytheway everyone should go on a liquid diet at least two weeks before having one of those! The Varsity chili dogs didn't help either! When I did find Cheryl she looked just great! First thing I wonder is how much weight she has lost so far? She gained about 6 pounds because they make you drink 3 liters, or do they just pour it in through one of the seven incisions (The Magnificent Seven). I suppose we could play connect the dots later. They pump your abdomen full of air. Helium would be even better. I'd like to see that! Then they stick a TV camera in there and some other things including an innertube thing that you can add water to and make it smaller! I wonder if the doctor has a private stock of OR bloopers. I need doctor friends. The doctor said he would give me a fifteen minute head start to pull the car around. Ha ha! I can do it in five! I find the car with no trouble. Of course I am carrying a black ladies purse, make that a ladies black purse which goes well with my slimline black shirt. I wonder should I put it in the bag, so it doesn't look suspicious. Then I decide it would look even more suspicious if people see me trying to hide it, so I don't. I find the car, no problem, pay and exit the parking deck, no problem! But then I find myself on the street behind the hospital, with no mapquest or GPS and only 4 minutes to go. I feel naked! Okay, I figure I'll just drive to Buckhead, turn around in the Lenox parking lot and swing right back into the Emory-Crawford Not-For-Long Hospital entrance. I slide in right on time. We get my wife back in the car. the rest of the evening is pop sickles, jello and Lojack Elixir. That stuff puts you out.
In case you're really concerned about Cheryl, she is fine! The doctors said she did great! The procedure went well. It's a little hard to get up and down and walk after playing mumbly-peg on your stomach. I will be home with her the next 4 days and am grateful for the opportunity. There are plenty of other things that could be written, but I enjoy sleeping with both eyes closed, so I let it be! The hospital gets top marks, even though they are a little hard to navigate. I would not hesitate to go there again, as a visitor. When the doctor did come out, he looked like a guy that would work in a home theater store or something. And if you have no idea what mumbly peg is, it probably isn't what you think. In the mid evil days, when I was in Junior High, we played this game where you faced your opponent, about two feet apart. You then pulled out your pocket knives and took turns throwing them near your opponents feet. I think you had to move your foot to where the knife landed or something. I'm not sure what the point of the game was, but I think part of it was to show how brave (translate stupid) you were and to not get your foot pinned to the ground. Also you were to show how expert you were with the knife. Some adult usually objected before medical attention was required. A knife was no more unusual to have in your pocket than a comb, which proved more injurous than any pointed instrument! We played some game where you balanced a comb on the back of your hand and the opponent tried to grab it and scratch your hand with it before you could pull it away. After 4 or 5 scratches, it got pretty ugly. How's that for a oxymoron? I practiced the art of knife throwing at home with a 7" bowie knife. I bought this knife because my locker-mate who had the same birthday as mine, September 15 (write that down y'all), would buy anything. I brought it to school once to show it to him. This kind of knife, you don't take to school! He stuck it up on the homeroom teachers desk! Of course it was removed before she got back. My parents found out I had bought the knife for the purpose of selling, and made me keep it. So, I practiced throwing it at an oak tree in our front yard. Over time, I made a whelp about a foot wide and two feet tall. I never learned to throw it properly, but even if I hit you with the butt, it could knock you out! About 35 years later my dad mentioned something about that tree in our front yard that became diseased , so I had to clear it up for him. One of the most difficult words to spell phonetically in the English language is "diseased". It is almost a conundrum, which is also hard to spell. I'll bet you could spell it 10 different ways and it would still be pronounced dee-zeeze.
Done now?
Hope you have a nice night. I plan not to get up before 6:30 am this time!
Love you all!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Willie B or won't he?
Hi guys!
I haven't written anything intellectual in a while, so I think I'll stick with that. I have let more people in my life, my business, my personal stuff in the last 5 weeks than I have for the last 25 years. The latest is the dietitian. What do you have to do to be a dietitian? I suppose if you grew up in Dietician Republic you could claim to be a dietitian and skip all of the school. My doctor said mix the lime with the coconut, make you feel better, mix the lime with the coconut and call me in the morning (Harry Nielsen). No, he said run from potatoes!(help me Quayle) That way you get the exercise and you don't eat the potatoes. He also said no cokes or tea. Now you know when he says no cokes he means no classic coke and when he says no tea, he obviously means no sweet iced tea. And what durn fool would be drinking pepsi or Big K anyway? No white rice, no white bread. I like him. It hurt a little but it was over quickly. Another of my nurse friends explained to me that I should not totally avoid potatoes because if I don't eat some carbs, my brain will start sucking the protein out of my muscles and organs. It would soon starve on that stockpile! I suspect my mental abilities must have waned noticeably, thus the friendly advice. The dietitian says I can eat a little of anything as long as it has no sugar, no carbs, no fat and basically no taste. Actually she said I can eat sandwiches, corn, peas in small quantities. I think my wife has a thimble somewhere that I can use. I can eat meat but it can't be bigger than my hand..without the fingers. Needless to say I'm doing hand stretching exercises, because I am suddenly aware of how tiny my hands are! I usually go for the foot sized portions, which can be embarrassing in restaurants. I feel like that great Atlantan..that icon..the amazing Willie B. You know him, the Gorilla at the zoo. He is something like 47 years old. No one had laid a hand on him for about 20 years, so before they moved him to his new habitat they had to tranquilize him and give him a physical. About the same for me! He was named after the mayor of Atlanta who also had the Atlanta Airport named after him. Maynard Jackson. No, that's not right. Let's see, Atlanta Hartsfield Jackson Airport. It must have been Willie B Hartsfield. You see how I could get that confused don't you? He doesn't look anything like I remember Mayor Hartsfield. I must be short on carbs!
I hope y'all celebrated Ground Hog Day. We did! We had some special groundhog barbeque and other stuff. We played a game called hand and foot with some dear friends. All together we've known each other for about 750 years, if you add it all up. You know when you see advertisements stating over "over 50 years experience" it means they have about 25 employees who average about 2 years apiece in the industry. Of course, we played by the new "Village Rules". I have little sense when it comes to cards, but I have learned to enjoy it anyway. I have my own set of rules which work well for me. Rule 1. Don't worry about who's gonna win the game. It won't be me so who cares? 2. Don't worry about what the other players are doing. They will worry enough for everyone. 3. Take risks with your strategy. What's the most you could lose? Do not take risks with your retirement. 4. Interact as much as possible. Cards are what you play while you're busy having fun. 5. If you happen to win, do not claim any credit. Your friends will feel better knowing it was an accident rather than having been outwitted by an idiot. Bottom line is, an evening doing anything with friends is hard to beat!
Well it's darkthirty and I'm not hearing any fireworks! What gives? No one cares about Ground Hogs Day? Well it's no wonder our countrys gone to pot. Hmmmph!
Good night! remember, you live in the South and that's a blessing right there by itself!
disclaimer: if you don't understand some of this, read ALL of the earlier posts. You wouldn't start reading a recipe or an algebra book from the middle would you? I wouldn't at all! If after you read the other posts, you still don't understand, try bull running or working for the IRS.
I haven't written anything intellectual in a while, so I think I'll stick with that. I have let more people in my life, my business, my personal stuff in the last 5 weeks than I have for the last 25 years. The latest is the dietitian. What do you have to do to be a dietitian? I suppose if you grew up in Dietician Republic you could claim to be a dietitian and skip all of the school. My doctor said mix the lime with the coconut, make you feel better, mix the lime with the coconut and call me in the morning (Harry Nielsen). No, he said run from potatoes!(help me Quayle) That way you get the exercise and you don't eat the potatoes. He also said no cokes or tea. Now you know when he says no cokes he means no classic coke and when he says no tea, he obviously means no sweet iced tea. And what durn fool would be drinking pepsi or Big K anyway? No white rice, no white bread. I like him. It hurt a little but it was over quickly. Another of my nurse friends explained to me that I should not totally avoid potatoes because if I don't eat some carbs, my brain will start sucking the protein out of my muscles and organs. It would soon starve on that stockpile! I suspect my mental abilities must have waned noticeably, thus the friendly advice. The dietitian says I can eat a little of anything as long as it has no sugar, no carbs, no fat and basically no taste. Actually she said I can eat sandwiches, corn, peas in small quantities. I think my wife has a thimble somewhere that I can use. I can eat meat but it can't be bigger than my hand..without the fingers. Needless to say I'm doing hand stretching exercises, because I am suddenly aware of how tiny my hands are! I usually go for the foot sized portions, which can be embarrassing in restaurants. I feel like that great Atlantan..that icon..the amazing Willie B. You know him, the Gorilla at the zoo. He is something like 47 years old. No one had laid a hand on him for about 20 years, so before they moved him to his new habitat they had to tranquilize him and give him a physical. About the same for me! He was named after the mayor of Atlanta who also had the Atlanta Airport named after him. Maynard Jackson. No, that's not right. Let's see, Atlanta Hartsfield Jackson Airport. It must have been Willie B Hartsfield. You see how I could get that confused don't you? He doesn't look anything like I remember Mayor Hartsfield. I must be short on carbs!
I hope y'all celebrated Ground Hog Day. We did! We had some special groundhog barbeque and other stuff. We played a game called hand and foot with some dear friends. All together we've known each other for about 750 years, if you add it all up. You know when you see advertisements stating over "over 50 years experience" it means they have about 25 employees who average about 2 years apiece in the industry. Of course, we played by the new "Village Rules". I have little sense when it comes to cards, but I have learned to enjoy it anyway. I have my own set of rules which work well for me. Rule 1. Don't worry about who's gonna win the game. It won't be me so who cares? 2. Don't worry about what the other players are doing. They will worry enough for everyone. 3. Take risks with your strategy. What's the most you could lose? Do not take risks with your retirement. 4. Interact as much as possible. Cards are what you play while you're busy having fun. 5. If you happen to win, do not claim any credit. Your friends will feel better knowing it was an accident rather than having been outwitted by an idiot. Bottom line is, an evening doing anything with friends is hard to beat!
Well it's darkthirty and I'm not hearing any fireworks! What gives? No one cares about Ground Hogs Day? Well it's no wonder our countrys gone to pot. Hmmmph!
Good night! remember, you live in the South and that's a blessing right there by itself!
disclaimer: if you don't understand some of this, read ALL of the earlier posts. You wouldn't start reading a recipe or an algebra book from the middle would you? I wouldn't at all! If after you read the other posts, you still don't understand, try bull running or working for the IRS.
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