Stop judging me

Currently there are a bunch of strangers walking through our house. This is one of the freaky things that happens when your house is on the market. You have to get used to people you do not know – and probably wouldn’t like - judging your lifestyle, and, more often than not, deciding that the place that you are currently dwelling is not acceptable to them. They look at our life and find it lacking. They mock our bedspread. They judge our curtains. That kind of hurts. They are probably making fun of our bathroom with the tile ceiling and hard wood floors right now. I know I did when I first went through the place.

Stop judging me for not mowing my grass on Sunday, potential house buyers. Yes, we are still planning on putting those bags of mulch on our side flower beds. We are not planning on leaving six bags of mulch in their bags on our back yard walkway. It is just that I thought it would be better if there were not roof debris in the attic. Sheesh, getting a house ready for showing is hard.

They are laughing at the “watch your head” sign on the stairway down to the basement, but they are invariably hitting their heads on the low stairway ceiling. It is deceptively sloped, it is. I understand you questioning the remnants of the painters tape in the living room and the dining room. Deal with it, the tape tore, and it is not really willing to come off. I have tried to remove it, but it does not want to budge. Yes we are planning on spackling those holes in the plaster, we just have not had the time. I am going to clean the fridge out, when I get the chance, but I have a job. Like you are so perfect…

I just hope they don’t steal my last Grape Crush. It is mine, mine, all mine! Do they think the dust on the NordicTrack means that I do not exercise anymore? I go to the gym, buddy, and I will probably jump on the NordicTrack while watching World Cup games next month. So, just get off my back. Provided, of course, we are not in the process of moving, at that time.

The good thing is that our house went on the market yesterday and we already have 2 showings today and one for Saturday scheduled. At least we got that going for us.

To recap:
Work is insane right now
There are so many projects that are coming due right now
I have 3 of the 4 bridge rendering first drafts done
I will post them when they are completed
About 3 weeks from now
We are chatting with the financial guy tonight about mortgage pre-approval
Dinner with the ‘rents last night was fine
I miss my cats
Quit looking at my stuff – look at my house, not my stuff
Even cheap pizza is good pizza

Cards

For those of you in the States (and maybe North America in general), as far as greeting cards go you have 2 main options. These options are Hallmark and Carlton Cards (otherwise referred to as “American Greetings). Sure there are discount card shops out there, and one can always find things that have been printed in color on a heavier card stock weight product at the grocery store, but for “quality” there really are only 2 main players. Hallmark is the gold standard in greeting cards. I did not know this for a fact until I had to purchase Wifey’s birthday cards at a crappy-assed Carlton Cards shop. Sure there was a Hallmark Gold Crown store in the same mall but it was all the way on the other end of the mall. I think in this particular mall that was .5 miles away (just over .8 km away) and I am lazy. I had already shown Wifey how much I loved her with the purchase of pants and the reservations to Fujiyama, I did not think the difference between the card shops warranted the trek cross mall.

How. Wrong. I. Was.

I went to the Carlton Cards store and perused their cards. Their humor (humour, for those of you speaking the Queen’s English) section of birthday cards could have been passed over if not clearly labeled “Humor.” The cards just weren’t funny. I guess if your paragon of “humor” is a fat orange tabby, then these are the cards for you. The punch line to all of their cards was something to the effect of “Cause you are a year older! Ha!” Very clever, American Greetings. Very clever indeed. How the greeting card writers came up with such insipidly boring cards was absolutely stunning. The cards that were for women’s birthdays focused on weight gain, beefcakes, or shopping. Men’s birthday cards were centered around hot chicks, beer, and golf. If you want to study stereotypes, just look at Carlton Card’s greeting cards. You see, women like to shop and men like beer. At least the shop did not have things sectioned off by ethnicity. Or maybe it is too bad they didn’t. Anyway… I waded through the myriad of humorless drivel and found a passably funny card that did not involve a fat cat.

Then I started looking for those saccharinely sweet cards that only lovey dovey couple give to each other. Wifey likes those cards. Go Figure. So I start looking through the cards and I cannot find any cards that adequately describe my love for Wifey (how is that for kissing up?). There are some that come close but they are so insanely Christianity focused that I found them to be a bit tasteless. I do not need to give a card to Wifey professing my undying love for her that has a crucifix on it. That is just not necessary. While I am not denying the fact that some supreme power gave Wifey a quick rap on the head to discombobulate her sense of reasoning where I was concerned, I do not need to remind her of this fact… ever. If she comes to her senses, I am toast. I don’t need a heavy piece of paper with pictures of a dandelion blowing in the wind to remind her how she married beneath her do to some almighty being’s influence. It is a tight rope I am walking here.

To Recap:
Carlton Cards suck
So does Garfield
Next time I am hiking it all the way to Hallmark
Do not tell your significant other that you “made do” with any cards
That did not go over so well
House is back on the market
Having dinner with the ‘rents this evening
Again
Work is crazy right now
Man, am I stressed
Did I mention “Stress”
Err... I meant “STRESSSS”

High Schoolies

There is no Hell like High Schooly Prom night dining. Sweet Mother of God and all that is Holy! High Schoolers are quite the annoying demographic. Let me set the stage for you.

It is Saturday evening, May 6th, 2006. A breezy night that is just a little bit on the cool side. It is not cold by any means, but it is definitely straying into cool territory when the wind picks up. It is the night before Wifey’s birthday and we are going out for a fun and yet satisfying dinner at Fujiyama Japanese Steakhouse. Yes, yes, we are well away of the hokeyness factor associated with a hibachi steak house. Yes, we are very aware that going to Fujiyama is not the paragon of societal class, but we are also aware that we enjoy the experience for what it is: American gluttony within the confines of an ethnic restaurant. It is much like a Chinese buffet, just more pricy. The food there is pretty in-authentic and over Americanized, and there are just insane amounts of it to shove in our gleeful faces.

Anyway… earlier that day we attempted to get reservations there. They could not seat us until 8 pm. We were a bit confused by this, since typically we can get a reservation for typical dinner time the day of said dinner event without any trouble at all. As we drove up to the restaurant, we realized why it was so difficult to get a reservation.

Prom... Frikkin’... Night

Yes, that is correct. It was prom night. Oh Good Lord, It was prom night. There were about 40 high school kids strewn about the restaurant, in all there high school finery. I realized something Saturday night. I think the reason I hated high school was that I hate high schoolies. They are not that bright. In fact they are the opposite of bright. They are all loudly-look-at-me dull. As we drove up we saw the typical this-is-my-first-limo-ride-and-I-am-in-high-school-standing-up-in-the-sunroof high schoolie. Point of note for said high schoolie: It is the same as the time you stood up in your friend’s sunroof, this car is just longer. Anyway… he had both arms raised and was shouting woo-hoo while the limo driver rolled his eyes and slumped a bit more at the despair in his life. **I am sure he thought to himself, “I’ll become a limo driver. I can meet celebrities when they come into town, I can drive newly married couples to the airport, I will be the happiest person on the face of the earth.” Sadly this poor man gets saddled with 16 year olds who most likely treat him like yesterday’s shit.**

Luckily we were at a table without any of the High Schoolies, but we were directly across from them. It was painful to watch the interactions of them. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah captain of the football team blah blah blah blah blah blah blah he’s cute blah blah blah blah blah blah blah that teacher sucks blah blah blah blah blah look at me blah blah blah blah no, look at me, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Just plain painful. Luckily the food was good, and we left all full and happy. We went where we knew no high schoolies would be, an Organic Grocery Store.

To recap:
Saturday Night was prom night
Yet another prom I did not go to
Tip to the kid across the table: Stop using the walkie talkie function on your phone to talk to your friend 2 tables away. Your date is getting pissed
Not to mention it is annoying the horse piss out of me
What are they feeding the girls these days?
They were all well endowed and tall
High school girls were not built like that when I was in high school
Not that it would have mattered
I was not really popular in high school
Go figure
I got Wifey some new pants for the birthday

The 'rents come in, the 'rents come out...

The meal with the ‘rents went well. While I pretty much understand my parents’ thoughts and motivations, they really have a difficult time figuring out where I am coming from and why. I have always been the one in my family to do things my own way. The language the family always uses is “He always did march to the beat of a different drummer.” And, honestly, I did.

In a way I feel sorry for my parents. I think at some point they really wanted to understand my thoughts and motivations, but around the time I went off to college they just gave up on trying to understand me. Not that I blame them. My thoughts and emotions stray very far from the parental units’. In this case the acorn did fall a significant distance away from the tree.

When they come back through town on Tuesday of next week, we will share a dinner again. This time instead of California Pizza Kitchen, we will dine at the venerable Burger King. Yes, Little Man does choose fine dining experiences. At least I have the weekend to prepare for that one. This springing stuff on us is hard to take.

On another note, Little Man did great with my parents even though he was playing injured, as it were. He has an ear infection in his right ear. This has made the naptime and bedtime rituals more difficult to complete. I don’t care what anyone says, there ain’t enough ground up rhinoceros horn in the world that will get a 2.75 year old to sleep when they have an ear infection. It takes good old fashioned neglect.

To Recap:
2 of the four renderings of those bridges in Cleveland are done
Yippeeee!
I am quite different from my folks
By different I mean that I am diametrically opposed to them
Me = Different Drummer
California Pizza Kitchen is tasty in a sort of non-threatening family way
Little Man will be on the antibiotics today
We are going to crush the biotics that are messing up his system!
They will not know what hit them
Primarily because they are not really sentient
At least I hope they are not
I would use the bottom of my lungs if it wouldn’t hurt Little Man
I said, “We are going to crush…” and by “we” I mean “the medicine”

"'Rents" ain't a Broadway show...

More of an information post/whine today than usual.

Thank you for all of you in the blogosphere who felt sorry for my nap being curtailed yesterday. I am sure someone is out there, and you just chose not to comment. I survived the day yesterday sans the nap-o-rino (or is it “naptitudity?”). For those of you who sent me derisive comments, and you know who you are, “Don’t hate the playa, hate the game.”

So, Monday night Wifey and I get a message on our voicemail (yes, we have the same phone number) from my parents letting us know that they were going to be in town for dinner Wednesday night (tonight for those of you keeping score). Yippeeee! Dinner with the ‘rents. I am sure it is a joy for them as well.

For those of you who are new to the blog and have not taken the time to go read all of my parental bashing posts, I summarize my parents thusly, “My parents are good people, but they are not nice people.” Let me ‘splain. An example, if you will. My parents did not bat an eye when they found out I was going to marry a bi-racial woman. They didn’t question anything even remotely. These people live smack-dab center of the northern 2/3rds of Alabama, and they really didn't even bat an eye. That is really a “good” thing. They chastise us for spending so much money on Hallmark greeting cards, and say that we are "wasting money" because of these greeting card purchases. This is not “nice” (and incredibly cheap, but that is a different story for another time).

Anyway… So the Good-but-not-Nice parents are coming over for dinner. They are coming through town so they can visit my remaining grandparent, my mom’s mom, in Kent, Ohio. Anyway… it will only be for dinner, so at least we got that going for us. I am sure they will chat good but not nice.

On the other news front, one of Little Man's caregivers, Grandma D, is in the hospital again. I am not terribly sure as to what exactly is going on, but it, surprisingly, has nothing to do with her trip to The Cleveland Clinic yesterday for whatever Dr appointment she had. This hospital stay is due to a completely un-related health matter entirely. So today, Wifey, is at home with Little Man. We will figure out tomorrow’s childcare schedule when we get finished with today.

To recap:
Grandma D is not feeling too well right now
My parents are coming
I feel like I should do a Paul Revere-esque ride though town shouting this from the top of my lungs
The bottom of my lungs are just too powerful, and I would break windows and burst eardrums if I used them
Powerful bottom of my lungs I have
Powerful and terrible
Honestly, they scare me
“Good-but-not-nice” is an adjective
“Good but not nice” is an adverb
I am capable of learning
Now, you should all fear the bottom of my lungs….

Update on Napping

Turns out that my much wanted and desired nap experience did not pan out. Turns out that Little Man was not into having a nap. This little one typically takes a 1 1/2 hour nap, but today today, the day that I wanted to join him, he slept for a paltry 30 minutes. 15 of those minutes I wasted on bragging to you people about my impending nap. So for all of you who were greatly envious of my napping. It did not happen. Instead I had to deal with a kid who needed a nap for the rest of the day.

To Recap:
No nap for SRH
SRH needed a nap
SRH still needs a nap
It is time for dinner
We are having leftovers

Napping

Today is a Papa at home with his boy day. I forgot completely about this day until yesterday afternoon when Wifey asked me what I was going to do with Little Man today. Clearly, I had no idea. The caregivers, Grandma D and Grandpa R had some kind of medical thingy going on today in Cleveland. It is simply a check-up with a specialist, before all of you find me to be some sort of callous and uncaring bastard. They were, however, kind enough to give us a month's notice about this appointment. Fat lot of good it did me, I completely forgot about it. Anyway... when Wifey mentioned it yesterday afternoon and I realized what the date was, it all came back to me crystal clear. I had forgotten to write this down. Oh well, c'est la vie.

Unfortunately, the weather is not really allowing for terribly much outdoor fun and frivolity, so I am glad I did not have grandiose plans for today anyway. So far we have been having a really good day, although he wanted to go through the entire bedtime ritual prior to his nap. I assured him that we would do the entire bedtime ritual later when it was actually his bedtime and not simply naptime. Many tears were shed due to lack of bath. He is napping currently, and I wish I was as well.

Wait a second; nothing is keeping me from napping right now except for this post. Catch you suckers later…

To recap:

Not at work today
Little Man wanted a bath prior to his nap
He is sleeping right now
I am on my way to napping as well

Dihydrogen Oxide

Someone once asked me, “Do you have a personal philosophy?”

And I responded with, “Shut your damn mouth! I. Will. Kill. You. I WILL KILL YOU! You can’t ask me QUESTIONS! I am not beholden TO YOU! Get out of my face! I will gnaw your tiny little head off, AND MAKE A NICE PUDDING FROM YOUR BONES!!! Why are you just sitting there trembling! You brought this upon yourself! You woke the sleeping giant! And this giant’s name is PAIN!!!!!”

Upon further reflection, I felt that maybe the question was not out of line for my therapist to ask. Anyway… so I thought about the question more and more, and realized that as far as personal philosophies go, mine was more of a “physics construct” than a “personal philosophy.”

I found that I am like water. I conform to any container I am placed in… as long as the container is large enough and there are comfortable things within said container to lounge upon. Much like water, I take the path of least resistance. At least I take the path of least resistance when it is convenient for me. I boil over when hot, and when cold I shut down. If by “boil over” one means that I “complain loudly and whine incessantly,” and if by “shut down” one means “carry on like nothing else has happened.” Hmmmm, maybe I am not so much like water after all.

Now I am not sooo full of myself to think that I fill any container that I am placed in, that would be a gas. And no one likes a gassy bastard! The interesting thing about being a liquid, is that the path of least resistance is always downhill. This, for those of you knowledgeable about civil engineering principles, is the exact tenet of sanitation engineering: “Shit flows down hill.” So much like shit I am forever traveling down hill unless I find a pumping station, but downhill is my typical tendency. Due to my wateriness I also tend to avoid hard objects. If I can not easily overcome something with my volume, I will divert and go around.

This leads me to the redefine my personal philosophy.

While I sometimes take the path of least resistance, I also hold a concept near and dear to my heart that I call “economy of motion.” Some people call it “lazy, “but those in the know (me mainly) recognize my ingenuity for not doing things as sheer genius. Sheer raw unadulterated genius. Genius, I tell you. Genius! Ummm… did I mention genius? If not, Genius. Sometimes I will pick things up with my toes instead of bending over to pick them up. Other times I will let Wifey do the picking up, by not even trying. Genius I tell you, Genius. If I had a prehensile tail, I would probably use that instead of my feet or Wifey. Who wouldn’t use a prehensile tail if they had one? Anyone? Anyone?

To Recap:
My head is hurting today
I think it has something to do with allergies
And/or weather
There are tons of holes in the above “logic”
Mainly because I put no though behind it
Whatsoever
Prehensile tails would be cool
I am not really like water
Well 50 to 65% of me is very much like water
Man, my head is killing me
Genius

hand to hand

Okay, I have nothing to post about today. Nothing at all, but instead of blather on about my lack of something, which is truly something, I figured I would have someone randomly find a word in the dictionary, and that will be my topic for the day.

Hang on, I will find someone who does not solely use an online dictionary, much like myself….

This is from Websters Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary (Okay, I have to question when a dictionary has “Ninth New” in the title. Can it be the Ninth and still be New?) from 1988, pg. 551. Hey, dictionaries are hard to come by. The closest one I could find was merely 18 years old. There is a veritable dearth of dictionaries in the office. (point of note: veritable can only be used with the words dearth and plethora, and vice versa)

The entry randomly picked was:

hand to hand \-‘hand\ adv (15c) :in a manner involving physical contact

Hmmm… This is not to be confused with the prior entry

hand-to-hand \,han-tə-,hand, -də-\ adj (1836): involving physical contact

Well, this is going to be more difficult than I thought. I was hoping for something like “puppy.”

Okay, my hand to hand post.

I find it interesting that the difference between an adjective and an adverb, in this case is the removal of 2 hyphens. I cannot think of any other situation where this is the case. Usually, the “ly” marks the adverb from the other parts of speech, but, in truth, “hand-to-handly” does look rather stupid. I wish the dictionary in question had used “hand to hand” in a sentence, because I cannot for the life of me modify a verb with it.

I hand to hand ran. Doesn’t work. stupidly, quickly, etc… "ly" adverbs all seem to work with this sentence, but hand to hand just doesn’t.

This came in hand to hand handy. Nope, this doesn’t work either. “Very” is an adverb as well, but hand to hand does not adequately replace it in any sentence I can think of. Hmmmm. I cannot seem to find a way to use this word in a sentence without it being an adjective.

Well, this experiment did not work. I should have randomly chosen “puppy.”

To recap:
Random word generation blogging is not the wave of the future that I had intended
I am a little afraid that the pics I snapped of one of the bridges are not far enough away
I am not too afraid of that though
I still have not gotten a new response from “The Yeti”
I love the schwa, “ə”
It is completely under-used
Is there a state of being “whelmed?”
I have been overwhelmed, and I have been underwhelmed, but have I ever been “whelmed”

From: "The Yeti" To: SRH CC:Internet

Okay I am posting this email conversation that I have been having with “The Yeti” for the past few days. All I have done is removed email addresses to protect the anonymity of the Yeti, and keep each of us from being spammed with Viagra/Cialis ads. I have also cleaned up some of the un-intentional spelling/capitalization mistakes. I am out of town today, so this is all you get.

From: “THE YETI”
Sent: Friday, April 21, 2006 9:40 AM
To: SRH
CC:
Subject: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Importance: Low

Dear Sir,

You have bad mouthed me for the last time. I know where you live and have a taste for Alabama blood. It may not be today and it may not be tomorrow, actually I am busy tomorrow, so it won't be tomorrow, but it will be soon.
Sleep with one eye open...

Your Favorite Yeti,

The Yeti



From: "SRH"
To: "THE YETI"
CC:
Subject: RE: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2006 07:20:28 -0400

Dear "The Yeti," If that is truly who you are,

I am truly surprised by your email correspondence, for I did not think that you could string together more than one cogent thought that was not about food. Honestly, I am surprised that this message was sent via email and not a bird of some form with a tattered piece of paper tied to its neck (subtlety not being one of your virtues) with a scrawled crayon message reading "Me no like you, I kill Kill
KILLL!!!
-teh yite."

Furthermore, I should like it if you did not sent any more of your electronic missives to my work email. If you tracked me down here, I am sure you can send something to my home account. If you truly are the Yeti in question, we have already exchanged insurance information from the first time we met. Most of my contact information is there.

I guess that is the rub of all this. What started out as an accidental, well accident, meeting developed to a true friendship. Do you remember the Stooge Marathon? Do you remember trading vanilla milkshake recipes? By the way, I modified yours, if you add powered milk to the shake, it really thickens it up. Then betrayal.

Yeti, you are already dead to me.

--SRH


From: “THE YETI”
Sent: Monday, April 24, 2006 8:49 AM
To: SRH
CC:
Subject: RE: RE:GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

For shame. You have once under estimated your opponent and it shall cost you dearly. This is the 21st century and everyone has gone wireless. I have already mapquested directions to your house and it is only a matter of time before the sword of Damocles drops on your head. Thanks for suggesting the powdered milk. I will have to try that the next time I want a shake.

Yours truly,

The Yeti


From: "SRH"
To: "THE YETI”
CC:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2006 13:06:22 -0400

Dear Mr. Yeti,

I imagine you trying desperately not to mis-spell words on your Treo with you pendulously large and furry fingers. It is an image that makes me giggle like a schoolgirl, so thank you for that.

Mere directions to my house do not scare me. Primarily because you, my rather large and be-furred nemesis, are quite conspicuous whilst traveling. I think it is the glowing yellow eyes, the gray white shaggy/matted fur, and the fact that you smell like a goat that just ran a marathon. Those are just guesses of course, I am also pretty sure that most airlines will not take Chirpa skulls as a form of payment (lord knows I have tried). I think you are making idle threats from your cozy little ice cave on the north face of Manaslu. That's right, Manaslu North Face at 7,214 ft elevation. Oh, two can play the "I know where you live" game. Oh yes, indeed.

Might I suggest adding powdered sugar in the milkshake as well, but only add the powdered sugar if you balance it out with a pinch of salt or 1/4 tsp of pure vanilla extract.

Regards

--SRH


From: “THE YETI”
Sent: Monday, April 24, 2006 1:50 PM
To: “SRH”
CC:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Mr. SRH,

If only you could possibly know how close you are to being mauled by my surprisingly dull teeth. First of all, while I do have fat fingers that make it difficult to type, this does not keep me from giving dictation to my handy secretary, Cindy the Cyclops. We have already crossed the frozen Bering Straights on Cindy's motorcycle with sidecar and it is only a matter of time we escape the hell hole known as Manitoba. And you think that Cleveland is bad, obviously you have never been to Canada.

-T.Y.



From: “SRH”
Sent: Monday, April 24, 2006 2:11 PM
To: “THE YETI”
CC:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Mr. T Yeti,

Aren't you afraid of the Mounties?

Bwahahahahahahahahaha, I couldn't help myself, I tried to be all concerned about the mounted police, but really, what are they going to do, polite you to death? Oh, God, I slay me.

Anyway... There are many forms of Hell. Manitoba being the "Boring form of Hell," whilst Cleveland being the "Dead Inside form of Hell." On a side note, I have always thought that Winnipeg should have named their hocky team the Peg-legs, because, well, Winnipeg Peg-legs has a certain "je ne sais crois" to it, don't you think?

How is Cindy doing? I haven't talked to her in while, mainly because she sided with you in our grievance. Cyclopskins, what they lack in depth perception, they make up for in zeal. (You are driving right? ‘Cuase Cindy is not so good with the cliffs and not falling off of them. A clear drawback to having only one big eye).

Honestly though, the milkshake recipe should have gone as follows

5 large scoops of Vanilla Bean ice cream (the bean is what makes it good! and definitely not that French Vanilla crap!)
1/2 cup of powdered milk
1/4 cup of powdered sugar
1/4 tsp of double strength pure Vanilla Extract (or 1/2 tsp if you only have single strength)
2 cups of milk Blend until smooth
Use a spoon to eat

Your recipe of
Ice cream + Milk = shake, while elementary and correct, needed some fleshing out.

Look forward to your attempt at mauling me.

Cheers
--SRH



From: “THE YETI”
Sent: Tuesday, April 25, 2006 11:26 AM
To: “SRH”
CC:
Subject: sasquatch says hello

Meat,

If you have not yet realized, let me tell you something. Your days are numbered and soon i will be picking my dull teeth with your bones. Cindy and I crossed over to the US last night through Vancouver and stayed the evening with one of Cindy's college friends, Sasquatch. He told us of tales and mentioned that he is quite aware of you and feels that you must be dealt with swiftly. We had a few problems crossing the US border but it mostly had to do with the duty free store and the fact that I could not find the right cologne. I didn't want something too sweet but something that not overly musty. I also got into a tiny dispute with the border patrol because he felt we were trying to smuggle Khalua into the country. It was only 3 bottles and i know my rights. It ended with me gnarling his arm off and him running off like a little one armed bitch. mmmm, human blood. Tomorrow we are stopping off to visit my old buddy, El Chupacabra. He is making us dinner. I assume it is goat.

Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you.

Yours truly,
The Yeti




From: “SRH “
Sent: Tuesday, April 25, 2006 12:51 PM
To: “THE YETI”
CC:
Subject: RE: sasquatch says hello

Dearest Walking Smelly Carpet,

Here we were having a pleasant conversation when you go and ruin it by calling me, of all things, "meat." I mean really, is that all that you have?

On another note, why in God's name did you travel all the way east to Manitoba just to cross the US Border in Vancouver, way the Hell in the west? I know that Ohio is mis-labeled as being part of the "Mid-West, but sheesh, you could have mauled me in my sleep last night if you hadn't detoured. Don't you know that you will have to now travel cross country to get to the great plains of Ohio? If I were you, I would have continued East to Ontario and crossed at Sault St. Marie. Then it is almost a straight shot down Michigan and into Ohio for the "maulin'." Did you need me to send you a trip-tic from AAA? Yeti, I make maps for a living, you could have asked. Then again, you are visiting Chuppy in Chiapas, so I am starting to think that this quest you are on to silence me, is more of an excuse to visit people.

Oddly enough and on the same tack, Pedi, our mutual sasquatch friend called after you left. You see, I have been on good terms with Pedi (Pedi LaGrande) for a very, very long time. She says that you are looking well, and that you really aren't that into the whole "shutting up SRH" thing as much as you are into the "I am happy to have gotten out of the Himalayas" thing. Roof of the world just doesn't have that great of restaurants, does it?

So, you visiting Champ as well, while you are here. If you do see him, he owes me $5 for lunch. You would think a water serpent would eat fish, but he all into the "New York Style Pizza." Anyway, Chuppy will probably serve you Goat a l'orange, it is his favorite "company's over" dish.

Happy touring,

--SRH


So Far I have not received a response…

To recap:
The yeti does not think much of himself
I had to capitalize all of his “I”’s
It was like emailing with e. e. cummings without the artistry
I am snapping photos of bridges today
In Cleveland
Yippee
Cheers

I'm dreaming of...

So I have traded in my Caffeine Free Mountain Dew for Sunkist: Good, Good, Good, Good Vibrations. I feel like I should be wearing cut-off jeans shorts and a tank top and swinging from a rope into a river with seven of my buddies/buddy-ettes after a long day of driving around in our 1983 Jeep Wranglers.

Alas I am sitting at my desk writing a blog wearing some non-blue denim jeans and a red and white striped polo-esque shirt listening to co-workers make fun of how each other walk. They described my walk as being "smooth." I describe it as "smooth like a cat." Everything is better with a simile. I lead a storied life. Storied indeed. Dictionary.com definies storied as:

sto·ried (stôr' ēd, stōr -): adj.

1. Celebrated or famous in history or story: the storied journey of the Mayflower.
2. Ornamented with designs representing scenes from history, legend, or story: storied tapestry.

I define it as

sto·ried (stôr' ēd, stōr -): adj.

1. Dull, like SRH’s life
ex. SRH leads a storied existence, much like that of a common snail.

Storied indeed.

Tomorrow I have to travel to Cleveland to take pictures of 2 bridges. Yup, I have to take pictures of bridges and all their majesty. At least I am not tasked with taking pictures of Lloyd Bridges, him being dead and all. Summararily, I also will not be snapping pics of Beau or Jeff Bridges either (I think that is as far as one can take that particular joke). Nope just a railroad bridge and a highway overpass; that is what I get to take pictures of. Yea me!

Okay, I am done whining about this.

To Recap:
I lied, I am nowhere near done with whining about this
The office in Cleveland wants me to take the pics because I will be doing the renderings
They feel that they cannot accurately capture the essence that is “bridge” adequately to take the pictures themselves
I think they just don’t want to do this and are making me, because they can…
Okay, now I am done
Little Man’s allergist appointment went well
Beef and wild rice for dinner tonight
Taco Bell didn’t hit the spot for me for lunch today
I have to go and sign out a car, and a camera
Yippeeeee!
The Yeti and I have been in correspondence
It has not been that enlightening

Yard Waste

The problem with me doing yard work is that, number 1, its is work, number 2, okay wait a second… Let me try this again.

There are problems with me doing yard work. These are, in no specific order:

Number 1: well, duh, it is work, and I am inherently lazy
Number 2: It is outside, and I am prone to sizzling in the sun
Number 3: I am allergic to grass. Yep, I am allergic to cut grass, causes my eyes to water and for me to get the sniffles. This tends to make me look sad whilst cutting grass, much like I am weeping for the lawn… “Why grass, why?!?!?” /sniff /sniff
Number 4: I am allergic to leaf mold, and our deck had a bunch of that crap
Number 5: I forgot was Number 5 was
Number 6: Did I mention that it is work and I am inherently lazy? Yes, yes, I did.
Number 7: There is no 7

Yesterday I had the pleasure of doing yard work. I am, of course, defining “pleasure” as a massive allergic reaction. I cut the grass, and it looked like every cut blade of grass was etched into my soul. Tears were streaming, and I was sniffling like Oprah at a funeral. It was not a pretty sight. Then, we finally cleaned out the last of our flower beds, and Wifey swept the inordinate amount of dead leaves off our deck. I then transported the leaves to our brush pile. I did mention I was allergic to leaf mold, right? Good, refer back to Number 4.

After going inside, I drank some cherry lemonade (tasty if you have never tried it) and waited for the leaf mold allergy to kick in. This reaction is a tricky one. Whilst cutting grass makes me blubber like Ole Yeller just got capped, leaf mold hits me 45 minutes after dealing with it. This reaction takes the form of the uncontrollable need to sleep. I must nap… simply must.

So 45 minutes post deck cleaning I am uncontrollably snoring on the couch, and Wifey and Little Man just think I don’t want to interact with them. Stupid allergies!

To Recap:
I hate mowing the grass…
I have to travel to Cleveland this week, but only for a day
That day is going to suck
Because I will be in Cleveland
Little Man has an allergist appointment tomorrow
The Yeti has contacted me…
It hasn’t been pretty
I still think he has a chip on his shoulder because people get him confused with a sasquatch
While I dislike the Yeti, and all he holds dear, at least he isn’t a wendigo
Thems wedigos are all bastards, the lot of them….
Making fun of mythological beasts on the Internet is about as dangerous as making fun of the Amish
For many of the same reasons

He wasn't a Little Man, he was an eatin machine...

It is always a pleasure to see my family in the middle of a work day. Always a pleasure.

Wifey had the day off today so she decided that a family lunch would be nice. Little Man wanted tacos. It has been probably about 6 to 8 months since Little Man has graced the hallowed halls at work, so we had to visit with everyone who has expressed interest in seeing my boy. Frankly, I like showing him off. He is darn cute. Little Man wanted tacos.

We visited the marketing group. They are all on fairly friendly terms with me, and they have all pretty much known about the boy since his entrance to my life. We chatted with them for a minute or 2 about how much he had grown, how big he was, how skinny he was and how much he eats. Little Man wanted tacos. After conversing with the marketing group we went up some stairs. Little Man wanted tacos. We then navigated within the cube world I work to chat with my employees. Little Man wanted tacos. One of my intrepid cartographers has a small stuffed animal dog that he offered to let Little Man play with. Little Man wanted tacos. Little Man was more interested in playing with my desk chair. Little Man wanted tacos. No offense to the cartographer with the stuffed animal, Little Man has stuffed animals at home, but he does not have a swivel chair. Little Man wanted tacos.

We went over to chat with other people I work near. Little Man wanted tacos. Here little man was distracted by some foam rubber toys in the shape of a semi truck and a passenger train car. Little Man wanted tacos. It was at this point that Little Man took matters into his own hand, so to speak, and positioned his “twig,” of the “twig and berries” set, into the “up” position. This complicated matters when he then peed all over himself. Little Man wanted tacos. For those of you without kids, and for those of you who do not have little boys, whilst in the diaper, Capt. Happy has to be pointing down. Little Man wanted tacos. If Capt. Happy is pointing up or to the side, when a little boy relieves his bladder, clothes are down for the day. Little Man wanted tacos.

We politely made our exit so we could get the freshly wet Little Man into some dry clothes. Little Man wanted tacos. We changed his clothes in the car, made sure his manliness was, indeed, pointing down, and left from the company’s parking lot. Little Man wanted tacos. There is a Taco Bell around the corner from where I work, so it was not a long ride, at least. Little Man wanted tacos. We ordered our meal. Little Man wanted tacos.

Finally, Little Man was eating his beloved tacos. Taco Bell crunchy tacos fresco style. He ate 1.6 tacos, and then noticed the Golden Arches of “Yeyow King!” (or McDonald’s to everyone but our family) and asked us in his most innocent voice, “Finch Fies?” Now, Little Man wants French Fries…

To Recap:
Little Man is a skinny, skinny kid
Little Man wants French Fries
He was eating strawberries on the drive over to Taco bell
Little Man wants French Fries
He ate 1.6 tacos
Little Man wants French Fries
I measured the tacos
Little Man wants French Fries
Yep, 1.6
Little Man wants French Fries
We then had to get a loaf of bread from Great Harvest Bread Co.
Little Man wants French Fries
He ate a large wedge slice of bread from there
Little Man wants French Fries
For breakfast he had strawberries and 2 rice bars
Little Man wants French Fries
I swear he has a hollow leg for all the food he eats
Little Man wants French Fries
Did I mention that he is not even 3 yet?
Little Man wants French Fries
I will have to get him fries before the day is done
Little Man wants French Fries
Have a great weekend everyone
Little Man wants French Fries

Abdominal

There is a whole bunch of confusion out there about crytpozoologicals. Many people think that the yeti is the same as a sasquatch or a wild-man, but they are sadly misinformed. Sadly, sadly misinformed, indeed. You see, sasquatches and wild-men are sweet and gentle descendants of Gigantopithecus, while the Yeti is descended from conniving hellspawn. That is why the yeti is also known as the “Abominable Snowman,” while the sasquatch is known as “Bigfoot,” and the wild-man is known as “that bear like thingy.” With the Yeti, there is the modifier “Abominable,” as in abomination (as opposed to abdominal, as I thought they were referred to as a kid, don’t get me wrong, they do have abs of steel, {they do a shit-ton of sit-ups… daily}, but it would be silly to refer to them as the “Abdominal Snowman,” down right silly.), but there are no negative modifiers with sasquatch or the wild-man.

The reason is that yetis are, in general, jerks. No good, kick you while you are down, jerks. So, for all of you out there who think I have a beef with all the cryptozoologicals out there, I don’t. It is just yetis, in general… and that no-calling-back bastard Ogopogo… and Mokele-mbembe owes me a dinner, but other than that, no beefs. None at all…


To recap:
No one noticed that the “person” I chose to ride shotgun with was Fluffy, the pine marten who resides within my skull
Hi, Fluffy!
I would essentially have been riding shotgun with something that was riding shot gun with me…
How narcissistic is that?
The problem with having a 12 pack of grape soda on my desk, is that I find it incredibly easy to drink lots of them daily
I am okay with sasquatches
No, really…
And the odd wild-man
It is those damn yetis that you have to look out for
One Yeti knows why he has incurred my wrath
I call him “the Yeti”
Oh, yes, the Yeti knows why…

20 questions, cause I am uninspired

Okay, due to lack of motivation, I will be doing 20 questions again. Stop grumbling

1. Is there a type of question I could ask that would guarantee my inclusion?

Well, responding to my call for questions puts you in the running. Responding quickly boosts your chances. Responding first… guaranteed.

2. Oday ouyay eakspay igpay atinlay?

Atwhay, inay ethay Ellhay isa isthay apcray? Iyay antcay eadray isthay…Ohyay, itshay, ownay iyay amyay oingday ityay.

3. If there's a story of a broken heart for every light on Broadway, does that explain population spikes following power outages?

Well, not exactly. If all the lights broke during the outage, then sure, but just because the power goes out does not mean that the lights were broken. Now there is typically a baby boom 9 months after a major outage. I think it is due to people have idle time on their hands, if you know what I mean, /wink /wink /nudge /nudge a wink’s as good as a nudge, KnowwhatImean? KnowwhatImean?

4. If you could ride shotgun in the mind of anyone from any time, who would you pick, and why?

Ride shotgun or place shotgun against? Oh ride… ummmm… that is a toughy. I already have the other list prepared. Well, I would have to pick an English speaker, because I don’t want to be couped up in anyone’s skull and not speak the language. That certainly narrows it… I would choose him...

5. Eggplant or pi?

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993753...
but eggplant is purple... 154269854782236985422365311578964565...

6. Is Easter becoming the spring version of Christmas with respect to gift giving?

It kind of is. Let me clarify, At Christmas time people do not get each other things for the Spring to come. A spring gift shouldn’t be given in December. Also since there are now “easter trees” that folks decorate with eggs and baskets hold as much as stockings, we’ve pretty much gotten rid of the religious significance of this holiday as well.

7. Why is it so hard for people to see beyond their abusive/compulsive relationships/lives?

People typically do not enter into a relationship that is abusive and/or compulsive because it is abusive and/or compulsive. They get into the relationship for other reasons, and they stay due to those other reasons as well. As for why people can’t see beyond their lives, well in general it is difficult for a whole bunch of people to look past themselves.

8. Am I in denial?

Yes, about what, we do not know….

9. "Hot Italians" - why do people like them?

I think any sub sandwich is just as good as the next one. If you like salami, capricola, provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, and peppers on a sandwich, good for you.

10. Is it okay to eat bread that you have seen a spot of mold on, but removed that portion?

God, I hope so… Although, there was this one case where a lady died and in the autopsy they found bread mold on her brain. Yeah, and another case where this guy died because he had bread mold on his heart… You see, the mold actually reaches much further than just where the spot is visible, and clearly human organs are perfect hosts for bread mold. The 2 ideal places for bread mold: Bread and human organs

11. Is it worse for a lady to have visible leg hair or armpit hair stubble?

I would have to go with the pit stubble. Visible leg hair denotes a conscious decision, stubble denotes poor time management and sometimes lack of conviction

12. Would you or have you ever dressed up in a super hero costume?

I am not at liberty to say (the government records are still sealed)

13. What is your biggest challenge right now? (and don’t say getting enough sleep, we all know you’re tired)

The Yeti… he knows why

14. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?

Ummm, sure, whichever one is in stock at the moment

15. crick or creek?

Personally, creek, but I grew up in an area where it was almost always crik. A crik is something I get in my neck

16. Why is it that networks are always so worried about decency on television when they allowed a show like the Flintstones to run for so long without the men wearing pants?

I don’t think the networks are worried at all about decency on television. They are worried that they will fined for what they show. Completely different motivation – they are trying to protect their assets and interests, not the public good. You know it’s hard out here for a pimp…

17. What posses someone to look at a rottweiler and a dachshund and say I wonder what their puppies would look like?

Is his name Bubba? I mean, “Does it say Bubba on his birth certificate?”

18. Why is it when an animal kills someone we trap it, kill it, and test it but if a person kills someone we sometimes kill them but don't test them?

For what would we test them? Rabies? Cholera? Or would we test things on them such as cosmetics? If we were to test them for rabies and an eyeshadow called Midnight Rendevous, I am all for it.

19. If person A and person B both leave the same destination at the same time but person A travels at 95mph and person B travels at 65mph how long does it take for person B to quit looking at the accident caused by person A and resume traveling at normal speed?

Better yet – does person B have a loud muffler? That will cost you a $100 in court.

20. Food question: car-mel or car-a-mel? mustard or ketchup? (or catsup)? salt or pepper?

a. Car-mel
b. Ketchup
c. both - live together in perfect harmony – side by side on piano keyboard, oh lord, why don’t we?


To Recap:
I am soooo not wanting to be inside today
I think it has something to do with the weather…
Mmmm Calzone for lunch
I need a nap…. Outside
Little Man has discovered ants… and is now afraid of them
Is it bad that we drape a blanket around Little Man’s shoulders and march him to the bed while humming the Imperial March from Star Wars?
Little Man loves this
We think that we have created a monster

You will pay, Yeti...

You

Will

Pay

Basket Case

Okay so the Easter Bunny has come and gone in the SRH household. Aside from his normal assortment of pellets, the bunny also left a basket for Little Man. But what does the bunny get someone who is allergic to dairy, eggs, tree nuts, and peanuts? Well in his Easter basket this year Little Man was left with an assortment of treats.

Little Man’s Easter Basket:

1 bag of Lays Kettle Cooked Mesquite BBQ Potato Chips
1 Pint of grape tomatoes
2 cans of Del Monte Summer Crisp Whole Kernel Sweet Corn
1 half-gallon jug of Juicy Juice Cherry Juice
assorted toys
assorted clothes (he now has enough shorts to make it a couple of days before mandatory laundry is necessary)

Not quite the conventional Easter Basket I must say, but he liked it fine. If the Easter Bunny had included a jar of Ragu Pizza Sauce, Little Man would have been in Heaven. Heaven, I tell you, HEAVEN! He calls it “shaush,” and would eat an entire jar of the stuff if we let him.

I am tired and my neck is hurting which is causing one of my ubiquitous headaches. The week is not boding well when it starts with a blinding headache and no breakfast.

To Recap:
Grape Jolly Ranchers and Sprite does not equal Grape Soda
Didn’t we used to get Easter Monday off in the States
Mmmmm… ham
See the issue with mathematics, in general, is its very foundation is a bit shaky
That and it is hard
Got the $80 allergen free granola bars in the mail today – they are all the dairy-, soy-, egg-, peanut-, and tree nut-free goodness that one family can stand
What the Hell is today’s Get Fuzzy about?
I can chat about mathematics theory a bunch, but Good Lord, I am “teh Suck” at multiplication in my head
I have a meeting that was supposed to start 30 minutes ago, just now starting

I am tapped

It has been a long work filled day, and I do not really have a post today. So I will give you an extra long recap

To recap:
Apathy is just fine.
I mean really, who cares if someone is apathetic?
My shoe has a broken eyelet on it
That makes me sad
How can the null set be the compliment of the Universal set, when it is a member of the Universal set?
Can someone tell me that one?
Well, can someone?
I didn't think so...
It is absolutely gorgeous outside today
Can someone be extraordinarily apathetic?
I got my review today
Turns out I performed so poorly I owe the company money
Again
“Extra” means “more”
“Ordinary” means “normal”
Why doesn’t “extraordinary” mean “more normal?”
If so, I am truly extraordinary
By "extraordinarily apathetic" I guess I mean "more normally uncaring"
I miss the real Mt. Dew
Caffeine free Mt. Dew just makes me long for the real stuff
G-money drinks Diet Mt. Dew
I don't know which is actually wussiest
They actually make Diet Caffeine Free Mt Dew
I don't know why
The diet I understand, G-Money is watching his girlish figure
The Caffeine Free I understand, because it is the equivalent to methadone
But Caffeine and Diet?!?!?!!
I have to write even more marketing crap tomorrow
About databases.... ewwwww!
And database management.... double ewwwwwwww!
My title at work is Senior Cartographer/GIS Coordinator
I wish my title were Señor Cartographer
Everyone would have to say it like Speedy Gonzalez or Slow-Poke Rodriguez

Easter is around the corner
Leftovers for dinner

Post-It

Today I am writing a document. Okay, it is really more of a report than a document. Well, it is less of a report and more of a position paper. Now that you mention it, it is not so much of a position paper as an internal memorandum. If one pressed, I would probably prefer to call it a loose outline of a framework. If you want to call a spade a spade, it is a note. All truth be told, I scribbled some stuff on a post-it… in crayon… with my weak hand… by “hand” I technically mean my “left foot.”

Yes, I am quite the industrious employee. Will this blog suffer because I am pouring my writing energies into something else? You betcha! You see, I am, what they call cognitively challenged. To clarify; for this person, me, “cognitively challenged” means “lazy, easily distracted, and none too bright.” Hell, I just remembered that I hadn’t updated. And it is almost 3 pm here in cloudy Central Ohio.

Here are some sentences I have been told should not be on the well, post-it note

1. While in 2000, this was innovative and energetic; in 2006 it is trite and tired.

2. We create high quality graphics for our proposals, but embed them in a lifeless husk of paper.

3. Our third and final issue that will hamper our ability to move forward is our lack of willingness to change the status quo.

4. If we continue down this path of stagnation and complacency we will easily be left behind by our competitors.

5. Time is a factor because, currently, while using our “tried and true” methods we are typically getting everything final and ready the day of a meeting/presentation. Sometimes we even slip into the hour of the meeting/presentation for our final completion.

Wifey, felt I needed to soften the language somewhat. Go Figure

To recap:
I was supposed to have my employee review today, but much like every year, I have been bumped by a crisis involving the City of Cleveland and its crappy Interstate system
Little Man had a great day at work yesterday
His bosses seem to like having him “on the team”
Do they have to do payroll taxes for an un-paid minor intern?
Does this infringe on the child labor laws?
My muffler is not loud, but I paid for it like it is. Oh wait, that’s wifey’s muffler
Mt. Dew is the nectar of the gods – not that I’m drinking it, but I’m thinking about it
A whole bunch

Work

Yep, Little Man now has a vocation. One might think it would be a Tyson Chicken Tenders QA/QC Marshal. One would be woefully incorrect. One might think he would be a Burger King Ketchup only burger taster. Again, one would be woefully mistaken. One also might imagine that he would head the Thomas the Tank Engine wooden train track disassembly team. One really should stop guessing. One is making a fool of oneself. One should really just stop it. No, really.

This is how it all started. This morning whilst getting ourselves ready for the work day, Little Man asked me, “Papa, work?”

I answered, “Yes, Little Man, Papa is going to work.”

Little Man pondered on this for a bit. He went about his business with a quizzical look on his face. Then he asked, “Mama, work?”

Wifey/Mama answered, “Yes, Little Man, Mama is going to work too.”

Little Man pondered this a bit as well. He continued going about his morning routine. Then he asked, “Little Man, work?”

Wifey and I looked at each other, smiled a little bit and nearly in unison said to him, “Yes, Little Man is going to work.”

So, now Little Man has a job. He is the daytime entertainment for Grandma DonDon and Grandpa Ron. It is a tough job, and it pays for crap, but he will be working Tuesday through Thursday this week and the following week as well. Hey, he is only 2.7123… years old. I think a 24 hour a week job is enough. He works just enough to qualify for benes! Full dental, can’t sneer at that. He has entered the workforce, and Mama and Papa are so proud.

The drop off went well today. He discarded his jacket and socks and sandals so he could get to work. He had a job to do!

To Recap:
Taste Tester for Burger King… Did one really think that?
I mean really, Burger king pretty much ain’t screwing with their burgers anymore
At age 2.7123, he does eat 1.5 hamburgers from the King though
He eats so much, but is skinny as a rail
Ham sammich for lunch
What make sit good is the ham and bacon
Mmmm… Ham
Mmmmmmmmm... Bacon
It is gorgeous outside
Mama, Papa, and Little Man are all stuck… at work

I fought the law...

I fought the law… it was a draw. “It was a draw?” you question. Oddly enough, yes. I had very specific goals for my trip to traffic court. These were, in this order.

Goal Number 1. Not get arrested for contempt of court due to yelling, screaming, and ultimately indiscriminately punching various and sundry magistrates.

Goal Number 2. Keep the “2 points” from getting on my license.

Goal Number 3. Pay less than the $110 that the officer trumped up for me.

I went to the court date assigned to me by my ticket. I even got there early. Unfortunately, in my naïveté, I did not realize that these court proceedings were “first come/first serve.” I got there not early enough to not spend 3 hours in a rather uncomfortable bench waiting on my name to be called. That’s a couple of difficult “nots.”

I get to the court house and wait in line for the security check point. I guess the people in front of me didn’t realize that they were in line for a metal detector, because they seemed to have no idea that you needed to remove all metal prior to going through the detector. At least 7 of the 9 people in front of me didn’t remove their keys and/or cell phones. It was at this point, I knew I was in for a long-long morning.

I find my way to the court room where I will be judged, and notice the severe lack of empty seats. I was at least 50th in line. Yippee. One of the clerks was prepping the cases prior to the judge hearing them. He would call out a name, and someone would stumble up to his chair. He would talk with them for about 3 minutes, they would say something. Then they would write something down and go sit back on the benches. He was doing his none too swift business when I arrived in the courtroom, and continued his slow processing of we unwashed masses even after the judge arrived 30 minutes late. The cases that the clerk had processed were the ones that the judge heard. It was not until the clerk gave you the once over that you could see the judge. It was tiring.

The clerk finally calls my name, around 2 hours into this fiasco of a day. I approach his table. He gives me this blah blah blah spiel in a dull monotonic voice where he read my ticket to me. He then asked me for my plea. I said in the most confident voice, “Umm.. not guilty.”

Clerk: “So, you are saying that you did not, in fact, run a red light?”
SRH: “That is correct, the light turned yellow for me, when I was only 15 feet from the entrance of the intersection. I was going 20 mph in a 25 mph zone, and could not have stopped within that space and not end up in the intersection.”
Clerk: “So you wish to fight this in court.”
SRH: “Yes.”
Clerk: “How about we reduce the ticket from a moving violation to a muffler violation?”
SRH: “Say again?”
Clerk: “We will reduce the charges from running a red-light to a muffler noise violation.”
SRH: “What will that do?”
Clerk: “It will be about the same cost, but there will be no points on your license, and you won’t have to set up a new court date to fight your current citation.”
SRH: “Ummm… Sure.”

I sat back down in the horribly uncomfortable benches and waited for the judge to tell me my final costs. Judge calls my name about 45 minutes later and tells me that in addition to the $75 for court costs, I owe $25 because I have a loud muffler. Justice, Baby! I asked the judge if anyone actually got a ticket for actually having a loud muffler, and he said for me to take my case to the clerk and pay my fine. We were tight like that.

I paid the $100 and went back to my car to go to work.

To Recap:
Goal Number 1: Check
Goal Number 2: Check
Goal Number 3: Check (but just barely)
Now my car’s muffler is officially loud
Oh, the injustice of it all
Best name of someone called before the judge: Johhny Cool
He wasn’t cool at all
Honestly, when you name yourself something like Johhny Cool, you have to be sooooo freakin cool that there is no question about your level of coolness
People shouldn’t look at you and think, “Meh, he ain’t that cool”
There were 7 mullets in that room
I haven’t seen that many mullets in one room since I was in 7th grade.
Best jacket: One man had a picture of himself airbrushed on his leather jacket smoking some weed
The smoke was outlined by silver rhinestones while the joint was studded with amber rhinestones
Classy
The judge was politely non-lenient to him