why, when I want to comment on someone’s story, do I have to type out a curvy tljkf with a handicapped sign next to it? Can paralyzed people not see tljkf? If you don’t have the use of your legs are you not allowed to "blog"? Are we short bused prejudice? I think so. And if "special” people want to comment on the story they read by golly I think you should let them. Even if they can see tljkf. So here is to the "special" folk see what you will.
lkjasd fuioerjo rjiojvodji ejejrldfn iofefo!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Best Day Ever!
Alright, I knew as soon as it happened it would be one for the books but I have been putting off telling the story because I knew if I told it too soon it would sound mopey.
Lately I have been changing my own oil. If you know me at all you know that me getting my hands dirty isn’t that big of a deal, however me working on the truck is a big deal because I don’t know jack about being a mechanic. I got a crash course from a guy I know I knew the basics. What I didn’t really get was the clutch fluid reservoir. Basically that is what allows your clutch to have any kind of pressure, like your brakes. I let that bad boy go dry over a three month period till finally it went out.
It was 6:45 on a Saturday morning. Heck yes I said 6:45 on a Saturday. Me and Al were going to pick up some free trees at Jacksonville’s annual free tree give away. We got five minutes from the place and we had to turn around. Couldn’t pull it off with this equipment. We drove to the mechanic and he called and said, I filled her up, you should be good. Awesome, I am a bone head.
Well he didn’t check the clutch and she was pretty much shot. About two weeks later I had taken the day off work and my dad came over look at my clutch because it was acting up. We finagled it into working like we always do with crap.
Later that day I was changing my oil. I went to turn on the truck to flood the oil filter so I could check my levels. I pulled the ol’ one cheeker on the seat because I only needed to start it then shut it off. I crank it and it starts to hop forward. In complete slow motion I think, why is it moving it should be in neutral, why didn’t it stall out, the emergency brake is on….. so instead of killing it my immediate reaction is to hit the brake.
Well since I had earlier pulled the one cheeker on the seat I pushed in the clutch with my right foot which is a bit no no. I reach across with my right foot to hit the brake and I don’t know what happened but what I only can assume happened was I hit both the gas and the brake. I friggin mad the loudest peal out noise I have ever heard before. It left a permanent mark in the concrete in my carport. Oh yes, in my carport. I drove Ol’ girl into my laundry room with the hood up no less.
It wasn’t a big deal, just a cinderblock wall I backed it out and had the worst case of the shakes of all time. I had to call my dad back over because I could barely think straight. I had to tear down the rest of the wall buy a new door and materials frame it out, don’t worry I’m not done.
My trucks bumper was bent all the way under the wheel well so it wasn’t going anywhere, we had to take off the whole bumper and drive it to the mechanic to replace the clutch, which is 950 bucks. Happy holidays to me.
My dad and I contorted the bumper back into a place where I am not going to lie, looks pretty impressive.
The grill cracked in half, there is a dint in the hood, the headlight busted, and the passenger fender buckled. So when I replace the headlight I have pretty good idea how I can fix the grill and the dents left in the bumper so the damage will look minimal.
So pretty much I am a bone head…. but we already knew that didn’t we.
Lately I have been changing my own oil. If you know me at all you know that me getting my hands dirty isn’t that big of a deal, however me working on the truck is a big deal because I don’t know jack about being a mechanic. I got a crash course from a guy I know I knew the basics. What I didn’t really get was the clutch fluid reservoir. Basically that is what allows your clutch to have any kind of pressure, like your brakes. I let that bad boy go dry over a three month period till finally it went out.
It was 6:45 on a Saturday morning. Heck yes I said 6:45 on a Saturday. Me and Al were going to pick up some free trees at Jacksonville’s annual free tree give away. We got five minutes from the place and we had to turn around. Couldn’t pull it off with this equipment. We drove to the mechanic and he called and said, I filled her up, you should be good. Awesome, I am a bone head.
Well he didn’t check the clutch and she was pretty much shot. About two weeks later I had taken the day off work and my dad came over look at my clutch because it was acting up. We finagled it into working like we always do with crap.
Later that day I was changing my oil. I went to turn on the truck to flood the oil filter so I could check my levels. I pulled the ol’ one cheeker on the seat because I only needed to start it then shut it off. I crank it and it starts to hop forward. In complete slow motion I think, why is it moving it should be in neutral, why didn’t it stall out, the emergency brake is on….. so instead of killing it my immediate reaction is to hit the brake.
Well since I had earlier pulled the one cheeker on the seat I pushed in the clutch with my right foot which is a bit no no. I reach across with my right foot to hit the brake and I don’t know what happened but what I only can assume happened was I hit both the gas and the brake. I friggin mad the loudest peal out noise I have ever heard before. It left a permanent mark in the concrete in my carport. Oh yes, in my carport. I drove Ol’ girl into my laundry room with the hood up no less.
It wasn’t a big deal, just a cinderblock wall I backed it out and had the worst case of the shakes of all time. I had to call my dad back over because I could barely think straight. I had to tear down the rest of the wall buy a new door and materials frame it out, don’t worry I’m not done.
My trucks bumper was bent all the way under the wheel well so it wasn’t going anywhere, we had to take off the whole bumper and drive it to the mechanic to replace the clutch, which is 950 bucks. Happy holidays to me.
My dad and I contorted the bumper back into a place where I am not going to lie, looks pretty impressive.
The grill cracked in half, there is a dint in the hood, the headlight busted, and the passenger fender buckled. So when I replace the headlight I have pretty good idea how I can fix the grill and the dents left in the bumper so the damage will look minimal.
So pretty much I am a bone head…. but we already knew that didn’t we.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Crazy Brauds
Today a woman at my work went into what can only be described as a tizzey about how women are not allowed to play golf at Augusta. She actually said, “in some countries women are struggling for rights and we can’t even play at Augusta, I just think that is, well bad, very bad.”
Of course to this I had many initial responses, maybe its because you talk too much lady chatalie..... maybe it is because women are inferior athletes and they don’t want to disgrace the course by allowing your estrogen to stink it up.... or even maybe you have infiltrated every other aspect of their lives and they want you to leave their dear sweet golf course alone.
Now I don’t even play golf really I just like to push buttons when I see crazy folk. So I simply responded in what I think is a mild manner, “maybe they don’t like divots”
Well you would of thought I took their right to vote away or even chocolate. I was met with some pretty fancy word slingin’ all for what, women wanting to play golf at Augusta.
Crazy bauds.
Of course to this I had many initial responses, maybe its because you talk too much lady chatalie..... maybe it is because women are inferior athletes and they don’t want to disgrace the course by allowing your estrogen to stink it up.... or even maybe you have infiltrated every other aspect of their lives and they want you to leave their dear sweet golf course alone.
Now I don’t even play golf really I just like to push buttons when I see crazy folk. So I simply responded in what I think is a mild manner, “maybe they don’t like divots”
Well you would of thought I took their right to vote away or even chocolate. I was met with some pretty fancy word slingin’ all for what, women wanting to play golf at Augusta.
Crazy bauds.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
A Country of Crazies
I recently bought a house. This is my second draft because I don't like airing my personal crap over the internet.
When you buy a house people always say, "congradulations" with great jubulation. Why? If they have ever done the same thing they should say, ahh crap I am sorry. It is by far the scarriest thing that has happend to me and I pray I hold it together.
Why is it that in our society we celebrate the freekishly horrid times in someones life. Now dont get me wrong there is good with the bad but If you are anything like me, and I pray your not, the sheer stress of these things makes you almost unfunctionable. Yes I have thrown up allot in the past week. Take a lil walk with me.
For instance:
A wedding- happy yes, but so stressful it realy isn't worth the party. Lets celebrate that with gifts.
A house- freakishly scary- oooooo house warming party.
Got nocked up- lets add to the stress of that with two or three showers. Yes free gifts and emotional baggage.
turning 13 or 16 or 18- lets add to the raging hormones going through your system with a celebration where you are the center of attention.
somebody die close to you- lets invite everyone we know to come and veiw the body. is this not morbid to any one else. do you know that if you get barried within 24 hours you can be barried anywhere and in anything. barry me in a wood box made of two by sixes and have a funeral if you must over my grave.
graduate- hey good job, your not stressed are you because you dont know what your doing, lets throw a party where everyone asks about it.
Do you think that deep down people are like "oh look how happy", or "good friggin luck?" i think it is probably fifty fifty. The women are happy because they lie to themselves, and the men just shake their heads in silence.
All I'm saying is that we are crazy... and we should all be a little more sensative, thats all.
When you buy a house people always say, "congradulations" with great jubulation. Why? If they have ever done the same thing they should say, ahh crap I am sorry. It is by far the scarriest thing that has happend to me and I pray I hold it together.
Why is it that in our society we celebrate the freekishly horrid times in someones life. Now dont get me wrong there is good with the bad but If you are anything like me, and I pray your not, the sheer stress of these things makes you almost unfunctionable. Yes I have thrown up allot in the past week. Take a lil walk with me.
For instance:
A wedding- happy yes, but so stressful it realy isn't worth the party. Lets celebrate that with gifts.
A house- freakishly scary- oooooo house warming party.
Got nocked up- lets add to the stress of that with two or three showers. Yes free gifts and emotional baggage.
turning 13 or 16 or 18- lets add to the raging hormones going through your system with a celebration where you are the center of attention.
somebody die close to you- lets invite everyone we know to come and veiw the body. is this not morbid to any one else. do you know that if you get barried within 24 hours you can be barried anywhere and in anything. barry me in a wood box made of two by sixes and have a funeral if you must over my grave.
graduate- hey good job, your not stressed are you because you dont know what your doing, lets throw a party where everyone asks about it.
Do you think that deep down people are like "oh look how happy", or "good friggin luck?" i think it is probably fifty fifty. The women are happy because they lie to themselves, and the men just shake their heads in silence.
All I'm saying is that we are crazy... and we should all be a little more sensative, thats all.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
What is next?
All right, so we received our degrees, most of us our married or pursuing a higher education or both, and some of us are reproducing so that someone else will be thinking this in a quarter of a century. My question is, now what? I mean seriously I have been in school since I was six always knowing I would get married and move somewhere and start a life. Always looking forward to that fine day when my life would finally start. Thinking how great it would be once I had a fresh start somewhere where no one knew me it was just me and my wife against the world and we would make it happen and everything would be so beautiful.
What the hell was I thinking? No where in that dream was the house market so flooded with over priced homes which combined with my ACU experience (that’s what I am calling my student loan payments) is virtually imposable. No where in that dream was rent so unaffordable that it would be cheaper to get a mortgage than it would to rent a place. So we will live at my parents house, with my family until something presents itself. It is not horrible, but it is a far cry from having a place of my own that is for sure especially when Al’s school is two and a half hours away. That is like living in Ft. worth and going to ACU.
Ok. I will pretend that we had our own place and my entry level pay was not making a budget impossible. Lets say like many of you things were working out pretty smoothly. What now. I have worked so long, I would say hard but lets be honest we just waited it out till it was time to get a diploma. It is not like it was a big challenge. It was like everything else just paying dues.
But now what?
What do you do after sitting at the office all day and you get home and it is dark? Watch television? I waited twenty five years to watch television. Who do you hang out with? Everyone has kids. You can only spend so much time with people with kids because their social lives have been put on hold for a long time. If you don’t do that it’s the same bar scene as before, which was not all that appealing in the first place. It is just a different age group and drinks are more expensive.
I think I have been waiting so long for something to happen now that it has I don’t know what to do?
I think I am having a third life crisis.
What the hell was I thinking? No where in that dream was the house market so flooded with over priced homes which combined with my ACU experience (that’s what I am calling my student loan payments) is virtually imposable. No where in that dream was rent so unaffordable that it would be cheaper to get a mortgage than it would to rent a place. So we will live at my parents house, with my family until something presents itself. It is not horrible, but it is a far cry from having a place of my own that is for sure especially when Al’s school is two and a half hours away. That is like living in Ft. worth and going to ACU.
Ok. I will pretend that we had our own place and my entry level pay was not making a budget impossible. Lets say like many of you things were working out pretty smoothly. What now. I have worked so long, I would say hard but lets be honest we just waited it out till it was time to get a diploma. It is not like it was a big challenge. It was like everything else just paying dues.
But now what?
What do you do after sitting at the office all day and you get home and it is dark? Watch television? I waited twenty five years to watch television. Who do you hang out with? Everyone has kids. You can only spend so much time with people with kids because their social lives have been put on hold for a long time. If you don’t do that it’s the same bar scene as before, which was not all that appealing in the first place. It is just a different age group and drinks are more expensive.
I think I have been waiting so long for something to happen now that it has I don’t know what to do?
I think I am having a third life crisis.
Friday, December 8, 2006
It Takes A Rocket Scientist.
I think I figured out why they have the handicaped tests all over the place. You know the one, where you type in "rdpeq" except it is bulry or wavey. It is because you have to be a friggin genius to use one of these blog things. Have you ever looked at one and got it wrong? I am pretty sure there have been i few times i have asked what if i don't knwo? What happens then? Are hadicaped people not allowed to blog? Will I need a special license for that? Whoever created this knew they were creating a publishing media for the patient. I think eventualy i will want to learn how to post a picture and i will click on "submitt" or "save" and it will ask me to hop on one leg. I will hop which will work, and I will know that I don't have what it takes to be a bloger, or at least on with a face.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Cross your fingers.
If this actualy worked on the first try, I am a genious. I truely don't expect too many people to reed this, howeverit comes with a disclaimer... i can't spell worth a flip, and the ACU ACAD program is a sham.
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