UPDATE...31.1.07...
Another 12 hour day. I'll spare you the details, but from 4:45ish to 6:30 it was a test of my patience. Nuff said about that.
For some reason, I thought about Sullivan alot today, Mostly good stuff but that image of him crashing into the wall as he struggled to get to us. That fear clearly in his eyes then... dead and gone kept playing in big screen super dolby THX, I couldn't shake it.
Not to mention it would be disasterous to be seen crying on the job. It was The Pogues that did it, I brought my MP whatever with me today and it has Pogues on it...damn you Pogues!
I managed to suck it up by quoting some lines from Full Metal Jacket at break with some of the crew..." I see you have born to kill written on your helmet and a peace symbol on your armour, what is that? Some kind of sick joke ???
"Sir! I was trying to make a statement about the duality of man, Sir"!
And so it goes...my favorite quote from the movie.
I've been burning CD's (shhhh...!) for my buddy Ryan since he has been music deprived for a while, So every morning he's been getting 4 to 6 CD's. Ann's new computer makes burning so easy Irene could do it, and she's a tard. It's been fun to share my love of music.
This morning an extra from "Dawn of the Dead" moved my tool bag and jacket (but left 2 of my tool bags in a tool bag on the counter) And my coke at 8:15 am. Let me say that again...and my COKE at 8:15 am...a full 30 or more minutes before the arrival of the taco truck and my chance to get a coke fix, which I needed at 8:15 am.
Let me first explain zombie girl...she was part of a crew brought in to set up all the shelves and racks and uh, more shelves...a big crew of miscreants that shambled around, talked to themselves and generally creeped me out.
Zombie girl threw my coke away while she was playing hide and seek with my tools!!!
There's an old racist adage that goes something like this: Never get between a Rev and his morning coke or you'll draw back a nub. I asked the obvious: Did you not notice it was almost full and had a full compliment of ice in it??? Zombie girl responded "It felt warm, so I threw it away...sorry" and shambled off.
Property management offered me a dollar, which I declined. I did, however eat some of thier Round Rock chocolate covered donuts.
End update...
PS: New witty comic
Enjoy...:)
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
TUESDAY UPDATE
Worked 12 hours today...focused primarily on the home runs (junctions that take all the wire from all the devices and lights back to the panels). It's high work...almost to the top of a 10 foot ladder in the closet where all the pipes come in and a 12 footer in the surrounding areas.Combine that with a shitload of tools hanging off your waist and a big ass hammer drill and it makes for a 7.5 pucker factor...well, maybe 6.5, until the ladder shifts while you're on top pushing that drill into a concrete wall...that's a 10 for sure.
My buddy Joel pointed out last night that one of the reasons I like being an electrician so much is because it enabled me to conquer my 2 biggest fears...heights and electricity. And he's right.
Don't get me wrong, I still hug that 12 foot ladder like it's Ann going up and down, but it's not so scarey anymore, besides, it's not the falling, it's the landing that gets you.
Worked 12 hours today...focused primarily on the home runs (junctions that take all the wire from all the devices and lights back to the panels). It's high work...almost to the top of a 10 foot ladder in the closet where all the pipes come in and a 12 footer in the surrounding areas.Combine that with a shitload of tools hanging off your waist and a big ass hammer drill and it makes for a 7.5 pucker factor...well, maybe 6.5, until the ladder shifts while you're on top pushing that drill into a concrete wall...that's a 10 for sure.
My buddy Joel pointed out last night that one of the reasons I like being an electrician so much is because it enabled me to conquer my 2 biggest fears...heights and electricity. And he's right.
Don't get me wrong, I still hug that 12 foot ladder like it's Ann going up and down, but it's not so scarey anymore, besides, it's not the falling, it's the landing that gets you.
Monday, January 29, 2007
MONDAY UPDATE
I have spent the better part of a week climbing up and down 10 and 12 foot ladders, tying in home runs and mounting exit lights and a very fucking heavy disconnect switch for the outdoor sign ( a real challenge for me considering the hands free option at roughly 18 feet in the air ). It's like going to the gym and riding the stair master with a tool belt on and carrying heavy bulky shit...but I'm not complaining, I'm just tired.
The new boots are a welcome change from the throbbing pins and needles of the old ones, so that's a plus. I've lost enough weight that I tuck in my shirts now more than not, and in my hidden desire to inflame and shock, I dug out the white trash belt and wore it.
Much to my surprise, it was the source of lot's of " I really like your belt"...not just from my crew, but from management of the business who were conducting on site interviews...go figure, I guess they see the humor in it like I do. I'm not white trash, I just portray one on TV, or something like that.
Which reminds me, I wore my White Devil T shirt last week...the one I ordered from that white pride site last year in a moment of impulsive drunkeness and nobody on the site blinked an eye, but when i went to use the facilities at neighboring Costco ( porta-johns were nasty that day) the stares were burning a hole in me! It was as if Metzger hisownself had walked into the store...fucking uptight white people, go figure.
I went to the supply house this morning for the first time in over a month, and the girl that works the counter was really happy to see me, very flirty. And she gave me the wrong shit as usual...I should of checked the order more closely, but I was thrown off by the flirty stuff I guess. When you're pushing 50 and a fairly attractive 30 something is hitting on you hard you experience some super ego / ego / Id conflict. It was an ego boost the wrong parts notwithstanding. Dad issues, I tell myself.
It's looking like a long next couple of days...12's probably. We need to be done and out (save the punch list) by wed.
I got a copy of Van Morrison's Astral weeks over the weekend and have been digging it.
That is all. I mean, I'm sure I left some shit out...but hey...:)
Hoo Whee! as Clem would say...
I have spent the better part of a week climbing up and down 10 and 12 foot ladders, tying in home runs and mounting exit lights and a very fucking heavy disconnect switch for the outdoor sign ( a real challenge for me considering the hands free option at roughly 18 feet in the air ). It's like going to the gym and riding the stair master with a tool belt on and carrying heavy bulky shit...but I'm not complaining, I'm just tired.
The new boots are a welcome change from the throbbing pins and needles of the old ones, so that's a plus. I've lost enough weight that I tuck in my shirts now more than not, and in my hidden desire to inflame and shock, I dug out the white trash belt and wore it.
Much to my surprise, it was the source of lot's of " I really like your belt"...not just from my crew, but from management of the business who were conducting on site interviews...go figure, I guess they see the humor in it like I do. I'm not white trash, I just portray one on TV, or something like that.
Which reminds me, I wore my White Devil T shirt last week...the one I ordered from that white pride site last year in a moment of impulsive drunkeness and nobody on the site blinked an eye, but when i went to use the facilities at neighboring Costco ( porta-johns were nasty that day) the stares were burning a hole in me! It was as if Metzger hisownself had walked into the store...fucking uptight white people, go figure.
I went to the supply house this morning for the first time in over a month, and the girl that works the counter was really happy to see me, very flirty. And she gave me the wrong shit as usual...I should of checked the order more closely, but I was thrown off by the flirty stuff I guess. When you're pushing 50 and a fairly attractive 30 something is hitting on you hard you experience some super ego / ego / Id conflict. It was an ego boost the wrong parts notwithstanding. Dad issues, I tell myself.
It's looking like a long next couple of days...12's probably. We need to be done and out (save the punch list) by wed.
I got a copy of Van Morrison's Astral weeks over the weekend and have been digging it.
That is all. I mean, I'm sure I left some shit out...but hey...:)
Hoo Whee! as Clem would say...
Sunday, January 28, 2007
OH MY ACHING DOGS
The ones at the end of my legs, that is. I've had the same pair of work boots for 8 or 9 months and they are worn out. No arch support and the soles are smooth. Since we've been working lots of overtime, my feet have been paying the price.I spent much of the week going up and down a 12 foot ladder installing exit lights and running pipe.
So today Ann and I went shopping. I got some new timberland boots that are hella comfy and are "shock proof" (which basically means the effect of the shock is diminished). No steel toes though, the steel toe model was out of my size.
And the price was right, less than I had planned on, so I got a new coat and headlamp flashlight. The coat is a carhartt prison style (actually it's called a chore coat ), carhartt is worn by most electricians, so I guess I continue my assimilation into the culture...:).
Ann got some socks.
And a new speaker system for her computer.
They sound pretty good so far...Ann's still tweaking the install.
The ones at the end of my legs, that is. I've had the same pair of work boots for 8 or 9 months and they are worn out. No arch support and the soles are smooth. Since we've been working lots of overtime, my feet have been paying the price.I spent much of the week going up and down a 12 foot ladder installing exit lights and running pipe.
So today Ann and I went shopping. I got some new timberland boots that are hella comfy and are "shock proof" (which basically means the effect of the shock is diminished). No steel toes though, the steel toe model was out of my size.
And the price was right, less than I had planned on, so I got a new coat and headlamp flashlight. The coat is a carhartt prison style (actually it's called a chore coat ), carhartt is worn by most electricians, so I guess I continue my assimilation into the culture...:).
Ann got some socks.
And a new speaker system for her computer.
They sound pretty good so far...Ann's still tweaking the install.
Friday, January 26, 2007
SPIN ME 'ROUND LIKE A RECORD...
I found this link at BartCop E! :
Pete Burns, the flamboyant lead singer '80s band Dead Or Alive, has filed a lawsuit against a London plastic surgeon for allegedly making him look "physically repulsive."
Gee...wasn't he always kind of repulsive anyway? I'm sorry, but I find this hysterically funny.
The androgynous frontman, most famous for the hit "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)," claims Dr. Maurizio Viel performed a terrible job on his lip augmentation procedure at the London Center For Aesthetic Surgery. Burns's suit complains of swelling, blistering, discharge, and impaired ability to eat, drink, or talk. He claims the damage was so extreme that at one point it looked like his lips would actually need to be surgically removed.
Wow...surgically removed! So then his mouth would actually be "Round round like a record-round round" ? That shit would play in Vegas man!
Burns claims to have undergone more than 100 operations over the past year and a half to reconstruct his allegedly botched face.
OK...That's 5.5 operations a monthon average. That's alot of fucking surgery for anywhere on your body, but your lips? Man...that Pete Burns is one dedicated got to have the perfect mouth motherfucker...Props to you and now I understand where the swelling and the discharge came from. 5.5 operations a month, on your lips! And I thought I was hardcore with the ink
Said Burns in a statement: "What happened to me after a series of injections was far worse than any nightmare I could have envisioned. Not only was it agonizingly painful but it was physically repulsive in the extreme. It was impossible to lead any life whatsoever. I was unable to leave my house as I was so distorted with swelling and I might begin to discharge yellow pus that was coming from the holes in my face. At times it leaves me seriously suicidal and depressed and I could have problems for the rest of my life".
What about the past of your life???
"If I can prevent at least one person from undergoing this hell and point them in the right direction to a doctor who can manage their problem, then at least I can help stop someone else suffering".
Nigga please...
Get thee to Oprah post haste!!!
Wow...
I found this link at BartCop E! :
Pete Burns, the flamboyant lead singer '80s band Dead Or Alive, has filed a lawsuit against a London plastic surgeon for allegedly making him look "physically repulsive."
Gee...wasn't he always kind of repulsive anyway? I'm sorry, but I find this hysterically funny.
The androgynous frontman, most famous for the hit "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)," claims Dr. Maurizio Viel performed a terrible job on his lip augmentation procedure at the London Center For Aesthetic Surgery. Burns's suit complains of swelling, blistering, discharge, and impaired ability to eat, drink, or talk. He claims the damage was so extreme that at one point it looked like his lips would actually need to be surgically removed.
Wow...surgically removed! So then his mouth would actually be "Round round like a record-round round" ? That shit would play in Vegas man!
Burns claims to have undergone more than 100 operations over the past year and a half to reconstruct his allegedly botched face.
OK...That's 5.5 operations a monthon average. That's alot of fucking surgery for anywhere on your body, but your lips? Man...that Pete Burns is one dedicated got to have the perfect mouth motherfucker...Props to you and now I understand where the swelling and the discharge came from. 5.5 operations a month, on your lips! And I thought I was hardcore with the ink
Said Burns in a statement: "What happened to me after a series of injections was far worse than any nightmare I could have envisioned. Not only was it agonizingly painful but it was physically repulsive in the extreme. It was impossible to lead any life whatsoever. I was unable to leave my house as I was so distorted with swelling and I might begin to discharge yellow pus that was coming from the holes in my face. At times it leaves me seriously suicidal and depressed and I could have problems for the rest of my life".
What about the past of your life???
"If I can prevent at least one person from undergoing this hell and point them in the right direction to a doctor who can manage their problem, then at least I can help stop someone else suffering".
Nigga please...
Get thee to Oprah post haste!!!
Wow...
Thursday, January 25, 2007
MY FELLOW AMERICANS...
I watched the state of the union address the other night until nausea and malaise forced me to abandon it and watch the Vietnam parts of Dead Presidents for the 5000th time.
What a pitiful excuse for a president...I would make a better president, even if I was strung out on meth and suffering from tertiary stage syphillis, because even in that state I would have a firmer grasp on reality and I would tell the truth.Something that bunnypants lost sight of since he emerged from his George Washington looking mamma's gates of hell vagina.
So, here goes...
My fellow americans, We are in a world of shit. Make no mistake about it. On the international front we are seen as suspect, if not dispised by some as a nation of power hungry, war mongoring facists. Militarily, we are stretched paper thin, unable to prevail and unwilling to provide the tools needed to even put up a good fight. We send our sons and daughters to a war that can't be won,into a culture that refuses to be reconstructed that we do not understand...nay, refuse to understand.Yet we continue to rattle our sabres at other countries in the region and expect them to take us seriously...as if.
Do you think Iran and Syria feel any real threat from us? They are laughing at America like it's broken, thumbing thier noses at us, because we are broken. From the inside out. And speaking of the inside, the middle class is rapidly approaching extinction leaving a caste system of the haves and the have nots. Rich and poor, and the poor better fucking know it...As you know, the democrats have a majority and passed a resolution to increase the minimum wage, which was promptly scuttled by the minority republicans, who added 90 some odd amendments to the original legislation, aimed at helping out the rich, effectively stalling the legislation and probably killing it. "Fuck you middle class...you are out of here...see you on the soup lines". (Soup lines they will control, and it will be watered down to a bland form of nontaste to match your new quality of life...or lack thereof.Emphasis on lack.
So, in summary America, get used to being hated and hungry and lorded over by an elite few who could give a fuck about you and yours.
Goodnight America and pass the oil subsidies.
I watched the state of the union address the other night until nausea and malaise forced me to abandon it and watch the Vietnam parts of Dead Presidents for the 5000th time.
What a pitiful excuse for a president...I would make a better president, even if I was strung out on meth and suffering from tertiary stage syphillis, because even in that state I would have a firmer grasp on reality and I would tell the truth.Something that bunnypants lost sight of since he emerged from his George Washington looking mamma's gates of hell vagina.
So, here goes...
My fellow americans, We are in a world of shit. Make no mistake about it. On the international front we are seen as suspect, if not dispised by some as a nation of power hungry, war mongoring facists. Militarily, we are stretched paper thin, unable to prevail and unwilling to provide the tools needed to even put up a good fight. We send our sons and daughters to a war that can't be won,into a culture that refuses to be reconstructed that we do not understand...nay, refuse to understand.Yet we continue to rattle our sabres at other countries in the region and expect them to take us seriously...as if.
Do you think Iran and Syria feel any real threat from us? They are laughing at America like it's broken, thumbing thier noses at us, because we are broken. From the inside out. And speaking of the inside, the middle class is rapidly approaching extinction leaving a caste system of the haves and the have nots. Rich and poor, and the poor better fucking know it...As you know, the democrats have a majority and passed a resolution to increase the minimum wage, which was promptly scuttled by the minority republicans, who added 90 some odd amendments to the original legislation, aimed at helping out the rich, effectively stalling the legislation and probably killing it. "Fuck you middle class...you are out of here...see you on the soup lines". (Soup lines they will control, and it will be watered down to a bland form of nontaste to match your new quality of life...or lack thereof.Emphasis on lack.
So, in summary America, get used to being hated and hungry and lorded over by an elite few who could give a fuck about you and yours.
Goodnight America and pass the oil subsidies.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
IT'S AN SG THING...
Gibson gave the les Paul (L) a radical makeover in 1961 that hasn't changed since it's introduction and is called the SG (R).
I have a SG standard that I got in Houston about 10 years ago. They come with these kind of machine heads:
Now, while it's a classic look, they are kinda shitty and break...like mine did.
So...I was buying strings for the Jebus strat the other day and saw these awesome grover machine heads that I just knew would be perfect for my SG. And the price was right...I was out the door for under 60 bucks when I got them today (but you already know that).
The guy at musicmakers said the screwholes might not line up but that was no big deal. Well, it was no deal at all, because they did. It took me longer to restring it than it took to install them.
I think I done good...
I like the little skull thing too...There's a debbil on the pick guard, so I'm thinking 666 for mine. Yesssss.
WHAT'S THE MATTER? YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR DOG JUST DIED
One of my coworkers said this to me at the end of a very long day, he had no clue that he was right, and I think felt a little like an asshole when I responded with "as a matter of fact...".I was afraid this would happen. The guys I did tell were very supportive and Rusty cut me slack for not being 100% in the game.
I managed to get through a very long tedious day of wire pulling by remembering all of the things that made Sully so special. He was hella smart, he was afraid of the dark, he was a world class snuggler and the list goes on forever.
Thanks for all the supportive comments on the previous post, they meant alot.
In an effort to stay busy I stopped on the way home and bought new machine heads for my SG...the standard ones don't hold up well and the back popped off one a while back, plus, a couple more are fixing to break. I got black grover machine heads...very nice, and black.
One of my coworkers said this to me at the end of a very long day, he had no clue that he was right, and I think felt a little like an asshole when I responded with "as a matter of fact...".I was afraid this would happen. The guys I did tell were very supportive and Rusty cut me slack for not being 100% in the game.
I managed to get through a very long tedious day of wire pulling by remembering all of the things that made Sully so special. He was hella smart, he was afraid of the dark, he was a world class snuggler and the list goes on forever.
Thanks for all the supportive comments on the previous post, they meant alot.
In an effort to stay busy I stopped on the way home and bought new machine heads for my SG...the standard ones don't hold up well and the back popped off one a while back, plus, a couple more are fixing to break. I got black grover machine heads...very nice, and black.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
GOD REST HIS GUTS...
Sullivan died today, i'm not sure what happened to him, but he swelled up like a motherfucker and died. He was 7 years old. I took him on a store run with me last night, his favorite thing. And I was snuggling with him today-right before he died.
I am so tired of digging graves but I dug another one today, and Sully went to dog heaven with his tennis ball and his snake.
We loved him and he loved us.
He's buried now in the back yard, next to Buddy and Cypress.
We love you Sully...for fucking ever.
And we give him a proper send off to his namesake...drinks and The Pogues...really fucking loud.
Our hearts are broken
Sullivan died today, i'm not sure what happened to him, but he swelled up like a motherfucker and died. He was 7 years old. I took him on a store run with me last night, his favorite thing. And I was snuggling with him today-right before he died.
I am so tired of digging graves but I dug another one today, and Sully went to dog heaven with his tennis ball and his snake.
We loved him and he loved us.
He's buried now in the back yard, next to Buddy and Cypress.
We love you Sully...for fucking ever.
And we give him a proper send off to his namesake...drinks and The Pogues...really fucking loud.
Our hearts are broken
Saturday, January 20, 2007
WORK ETHIC? NOT SO MUCH...
This current project I'm on has turned into a toe tapper. The general contractor keeps moving up deadlines in response to the owners wanting to open the store sooner than the original date.
For us it means 10 hour days M-F and an 8 hour day on Saturday. Our union contract gives us time and a half for anything over 8 hours M-F and Saturdays. This makes for a nice paycheck for us and helps our employer meet the demands of the contractor and owner.
Most of the guys on the crew haven't been doing the 10 hours during the week, they bail after 8 and a few don't bother to show up on saturday.
Well the push is really on now since we lost a 2 days on account of the "winter storm", and our deadline looms over us like the sword of Damacles.
So we had a shitload of people show up this morning to work 10 hours...at time and a half...but wait!
There is also a clause in our contract referring to lost time due to weather, the long and the short of it is today was regular time.
Guess what? Half the crew said "fuck that" and bailed.
Alot of them were angry about it...And here's what I think about that.
You got no problem taking money from the company when it's on a saturday at time and a half, but when it comes down to supporting the job and the company at some imagined sacrifice you jump on your high horse named indignation and leave the rest of us in a lurch.
Thanks...thanks alot motherfuckers.
Don't even think about cryin' down at the union hall when you get laid off after this job. You fucked yourselves.
Needless to say, I stuck around, for 3 reasons:
I need the money.
I support my employer.
I didn't want to leave Rusty in a bind.
I'm dog ass tired and sick of that fucking project, but I'm committed to the cause.
Buncha pussies...BOO-YA!
This current project I'm on has turned into a toe tapper. The general contractor keeps moving up deadlines in response to the owners wanting to open the store sooner than the original date.
For us it means 10 hour days M-F and an 8 hour day on Saturday. Our union contract gives us time and a half for anything over 8 hours M-F and Saturdays. This makes for a nice paycheck for us and helps our employer meet the demands of the contractor and owner.
Most of the guys on the crew haven't been doing the 10 hours during the week, they bail after 8 and a few don't bother to show up on saturday.
Well the push is really on now since we lost a 2 days on account of the "winter storm", and our deadline looms over us like the sword of Damacles.
So we had a shitload of people show up this morning to work 10 hours...at time and a half...but wait!
There is also a clause in our contract referring to lost time due to weather, the long and the short of it is today was regular time.
Guess what? Half the crew said "fuck that" and bailed.
Alot of them were angry about it...And here's what I think about that.
You got no problem taking money from the company when it's on a saturday at time and a half, but when it comes down to supporting the job and the company at some imagined sacrifice you jump on your high horse named indignation and leave the rest of us in a lurch.
Thanks...thanks alot motherfuckers.
Don't even think about cryin' down at the union hall when you get laid off after this job. You fucked yourselves.
Needless to say, I stuck around, for 3 reasons:
I need the money.
I support my employer.
I didn't want to leave Rusty in a bind.
I'm dog ass tired and sick of that fucking project, but I'm committed to the cause.
Buncha pussies...BOO-YA!
Friday, January 19, 2007
RETARDED SIAMESE CAT DOG
That's Irene, or beenz, or Beenzee. Who knew that when she first came to us that she would turn into a fucking cat in her later years. Really...she weaves in and out of your legs as your trying to walk , violates your personal space like a mofo...ie; face on face contact with pressure on her end...tail in the air like you're fixin' to get the stink eye...thank god that hasn't happened yet.
I've had lots of doggies in my life, and as they get older they develop habits and behaviors just like we do, but never in my experience have I ever had a dog that, as it gets older, turns into a fucking cat. Wow...
Don't get me wrong, I got no truck with cats, had 'em, loved 'em over the years, but a dog that has had no contact with felines to start acting like one? bizarre...
But we still love our retarded siamese cat dog.
Until the stink eye thing starts happening...oh fuck it, we'll still love her.
That's Irene, or beenz, or Beenzee. Who knew that when she first came to us that she would turn into a fucking cat in her later years. Really...she weaves in and out of your legs as your trying to walk , violates your personal space like a mofo...ie; face on face contact with pressure on her end...tail in the air like you're fixin' to get the stink eye...thank god that hasn't happened yet.
I've had lots of doggies in my life, and as they get older they develop habits and behaviors just like we do, but never in my experience have I ever had a dog that, as it gets older, turns into a fucking cat. Wow...
Don't get me wrong, I got no truck with cats, had 'em, loved 'em over the years, but a dog that has had no contact with felines to start acting like one? bizarre...
But we still love our retarded siamese cat dog.
Until the stink eye thing starts happening...oh fuck it, we'll still love her.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
I BOUGHT THIS GUITAR IN 1985...
It cost me 179.00...no case. I carried it around in the cardboard carton it came in...it was the third guitar I ever bought as an adult...
THE ORIGINAL
It was the only left handed strat I could find in Austin...funny that LH guitars would be so hard to find in the "music capitol of the world" , but I won't go there today. This is the story of a cheap guitar made good. It was a white stratocaster type, made by Arbor guitars...who? It was all stock (read...cheap ) electronics and hardware, but it was a lefty, and it was a strat. Since my discovery of southpaw in Houston, my love lust has run the gamut of my Strat to SG, to Telecaster, to ASAT and now, back to my cheap Arbor Strat.
Over the years I have changed the pickups to Seymour duncans, plus the switching and controls. and added Sperzel locking tuners. A few years ago, I stripped the white finish off and erased the Arbor logo off the headstock...I stained it natural and customized the pick guard with skeletons and wolves...because we are the Wolves@th'Door...
VERSION 2 AND A HALF OR SOMETHING
Here's a back view...I'm not sure what to do about the sticker...Andreas, the tattooist that did my back gave me that sticker, so there's some sentimental tattoo needles grinding into my back value to it...I may try to preserve it...
Godless Mother Fucker ( The guitar...not...erm...me )
So now it's time for version 3ba22cx or something...A new pick guard, courtesy of Adirondack guitars ( the guard ) out of New York. I did the stain.
If you're thinking "oh shit! He's found Jesus!": You are correct... I found him...at adirondack guitars, on a left handed pick guard for a bastard guitar I bought in 85. And here she is...
Praise Jebbus :
It cost me 179.00...no case. I carried it around in the cardboard carton it came in...it was the third guitar I ever bought as an adult...
THE ORIGINAL
It was the only left handed strat I could find in Austin...funny that LH guitars would be so hard to find in the "music capitol of the world" , but I won't go there today. This is the story of a cheap guitar made good. It was a white stratocaster type, made by Arbor guitars...who? It was all stock (read...cheap ) electronics and hardware, but it was a lefty, and it was a strat. Since my discovery of southpaw in Houston, my
Over the years I have changed the pickups to Seymour duncans, plus the switching and controls. and added Sperzel locking tuners. A few years ago, I stripped the white finish off and erased the Arbor logo off the headstock...I stained it natural and customized the pick guard with skeletons and wolves...because we are the Wolves@th'Door...
VERSION 2 AND A HALF OR SOMETHING
Here's a back view...I'm not sure what to do about the sticker...Andreas, the tattooist that did my back gave me that sticker, so there's some sentimental tattoo needles grinding into my back value to it...I may try to preserve it...
Godless Mother Fucker ( The guitar...not...erm...me )
So now it's time for version 3ba22cx or something...A new pick guard, courtesy of Adirondack guitars ( the guard ) out of New York. I did the stain.
If you're thinking "oh shit! He's found Jesus!": You are correct... I found him...at adirondack guitars, on a left handed pick guard for a bastard guitar I bought in 85. And here she is...
Praise Jebbus :
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
SNOW DAY!!!
No work today! Got sent home at lunch yesterday as we are in the middle of a winter "storm".Now, here in Austin, if someone sees one patch of ice the entire city shuts down. Having lived in states that actually have what qualifies as winter, I find this amusing. It is truely an event.
But we got snow that actually didn't melt as soon as it hit the ground ( like that lame ass one on valentines 04 )...check it out:
The last time it really snowed here was, to my recollection, 1984. And before that, I was still in high school. So it's pretty cool.
To finally get some winter is a good thing.
No work today! Got sent home at lunch yesterday as we are in the middle of a winter "storm".Now, here in Austin, if someone sees one patch of ice the entire city shuts down. Having lived in states that actually have what qualifies as winter, I find this amusing. It is truely an event.
But we got snow that actually didn't melt as soon as it hit the ground ( like that lame ass one on valentines 04 )...check it out:
The last time it really snowed here was, to my recollection, 1984. And before that, I was still in high school. So it's pretty cool.
To finally get some winter is a good thing.
Monday, January 15, 2007
MY INNER BLACK MAN
My son thinks he's funny... and he is. Years ago he had this friend who every time she called I would Talk like a brotha, and he would tell her his dad was a black man, she was totally duped and we got a good laugh. So he finds this website and makes me a black man. Some seriously funny shit.
Oh, by the way, my son has managed to avoid death for 22 years today...happy birthday son. I love you.
My son thinks he's funny... and he is. Years ago he had this friend who every time she called I would Talk like a brotha, and he would tell her his dad was a black man, she was totally duped and we got a good laugh. So he finds this website and makes me a black man. Some seriously funny shit.
Oh, by the way, my son has managed to avoid death for 22 years today...happy birthday son. I love you.
TEXAS...ALWAYS ON THE CUTTING EDGE- OF KILLING PEOPLE
I snagged this article from a local news channel web site...amazing.
Texas lawmakers are talking tough about cracking down on sexual predators who prey on children. Some propose the death penalty for repeat offenders. That could generate hundreds more death row inmates in a state that already executes more than any other.
That's right folks...everything's big in Texas, including the pile of bodies of all those people the state has executed. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure most or some of them deserved it, but a week doesn't go by that you see an article or a bit on the news about people who were snuffed by the state or waiting to be that are innocent.
Other ideas include long mandatory sentences for first-time offenders or eliminating probation. But opposition is flaring from unexpected sources – prosecutors and victim advocates. They fear some of the proposals would make it harder to get convictions. They also worry that tougher punishments would only increase the incentive for molesters to kill their victims to keep them from testifying against them.
Now this just flies in the face of logic as far as I'm concerned...all the criminologists and profilers and "experts in the field" will tell you, there's a huge diffence between say jeffery Dahmer and that guy that boinked his 14 year old baby sitter. Sure, he needs to be punished, but the death penalty for babysitter boinking?
Now...before I dig myself further into this hole, let me state for the record that I think molesting children is a very serious crime worthy of serious punishment.But I doubt seriously that the guy that fucks his 14 year old babysitter is going to kill her to prevent her from testifying, if anything, new stricter punishments including the dirt nap option would likely cause him to think about the babysitter while he fucks his wife...
And there's the question of whether the death penalty in sex offenses is even constitutional. In 1977, the U.S. Supreme Court reversed a death sentence for a Georgia man convicted of raping a woman. Justices called it an “excessive penalty for the rapist, who as such does not take human life.''
Since when does any politician here in Texas give a good shit about the constitution?
I think bunnypants proved that out as gubner and underlined it with a blazing hot poker as the murderer in chief. Seems to me they had it more on the ball in 77...life sentence for a rape? Absolutely. Death...may be a bit much.
But Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst(asshat) has led the charge for tougher penalties for child molesters. He's calling for a 25-year minimum sentence after the first conviction when a victim is younger than 14 and a death penalty option for repeat offenders.
So...Dewlap, what do you get if you molest a 15 year old?15 years? 16? 10 years? 17? Oh wait, that's right, 17 is the "age of consent" innit? And we all know we had it all in one sock when we were 17...
Here's a perfectly reasonable solution...everybody knows what the general prison population thinks about child molesters right? In case you live in a vaccuum, they fucking hate them. So here's what you do, put the child molester in the general population and it's sink or swim. I assure you they will never sleep again. They will be hounded and abused 24/7, and I can think of no better punishment...can you?
I snagged this article from a local news channel web site...amazing.
Texas lawmakers are talking tough about cracking down on sexual predators who prey on children. Some propose the death penalty for repeat offenders. That could generate hundreds more death row inmates in a state that already executes more than any other.
That's right folks...everything's big in Texas, including the pile of bodies of all those people the state has executed. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure most or some of them deserved it, but a week doesn't go by that you see an article or a bit on the news about people who were snuffed by the state or waiting to be that are innocent.
Other ideas include long mandatory sentences for first-time offenders or eliminating probation. But opposition is flaring from unexpected sources – prosecutors and victim advocates. They fear some of the proposals would make it harder to get convictions. They also worry that tougher punishments would only increase the incentive for molesters to kill their victims to keep them from testifying against them.
Now this just flies in the face of logic as far as I'm concerned...all the criminologists and profilers and "experts in the field" will tell you, there's a huge diffence between say jeffery Dahmer and that guy that boinked his 14 year old baby sitter. Sure, he needs to be punished, but the death penalty for babysitter boinking?
Now...before I dig myself further into this hole, let me state for the record that I think molesting children is a very serious crime worthy of serious punishment.But I doubt seriously that the guy that fucks his 14 year old babysitter is going to kill her to prevent her from testifying, if anything, new stricter punishments including the dirt nap option would likely cause him to think about the babysitter while he fucks his wife...
And there's the question of whether the death penalty in sex offenses is even constitutional. In 1977, the U.S. Supreme Court reversed a death sentence for a Georgia man convicted of raping a woman. Justices called it an “excessive penalty for the rapist, who as such does not take human life.''
Since when does any politician here in Texas give a good shit about the constitution?
I think bunnypants proved that out as gubner and underlined it with a blazing hot poker as the murderer in chief. Seems to me they had it more on the ball in 77...life sentence for a rape? Absolutely. Death...may be a bit much.
But Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst(asshat) has led the charge for tougher penalties for child molesters. He's calling for a 25-year minimum sentence after the first conviction when a victim is younger than 14 and a death penalty option for repeat offenders.
So...Dewlap, what do you get if you molest a 15 year old?15 years? 16? 10 years? 17? Oh wait, that's right, 17 is the "age of consent" innit? And we all know we had it all in one sock when we were 17...
Here's a perfectly reasonable solution...everybody knows what the general prison population thinks about child molesters right? In case you live in a vaccuum, they fucking hate them. So here's what you do, put the child molester in the general population and it's sink or swim. I assure you they will never sleep again. They will be hounded and abused 24/7, and I can think of no better punishment...can you?
Sunday, January 14, 2007
PLATOON
This is my final Bloghuh? submission. I hope you enjoyed reading here this week, I enjoyed reading yours.
I got a copy of Platoon on DVD last night and watched it today for the first time in a long time. Back when I was on the crisis intervention team at the oaks it was in heavy rotation with the after work booze and drugs and violent movie processing sessions we used to have. But when I watched it today I had a very different reaction. Back in the day it was a galvanizing event, it gave me the energy to suck it up and go back in for one more shift...how sick is that?
Today I watched in horror as reasonable men became animals, I laughed , I cried , I said "wow" alot. And I wondered what in the world were we thinking way back then?
The allegory to being on the CSO team is still there, loud and clear... The desperation, the violence, the sense of family in the face of chaos. All that and some blood on your clothes to boot.
We did amazing things at an amazing price...for me anyway.
And that's what mystify's me...people who put themselves on the line with minimal return...was it worth it?
Yes...yes it was.
Have I explained this adequately? No...there's no way I can...you had to be there.
Read the final entries of Bloghuh? Thanks BW....:)
Alley Kat
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
In the Aquarium
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
London Daily Photo
Pewari's Prattle
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Tabula Rasa
Tiger Feet
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?
wintermute
Saturday, January 13, 2007
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME- V.NEXT TO THE LAST ONE
THIS:
Why do people abuse thier pets like this? I don't get it. The family that owns the liquor store I shop at has small dogs that they dress in this fashion and, they have a rack of goofy, demeaning doggie outfits for sale. At a liquor store...wait! maybe that explains it, the pet owners are shitty drunk! Nah...we don't humilate our dogs like this...
I suspect they are the same people who decorate the house with geese and rabbits and bears (the plush kind ) dressed in gingham aprons and bonnets. And everything has a heart incorporated into it.
Just look at that poor dog...it is so saying "fuck you for doing this to me".
Go check the almost final entries of people who would never dress up thier pets:
Alley Kat
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
In the Aquarium
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
London Daily Photo
Pewari's Prattle
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Tabula Rasa
Tiger Feet
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?
wintermute
Thursday, January 11, 2007
REUNITED
Rusty, my friend and the journeyman I worked with at UT showed up at the job this morning and we got to work together on those panels upstairs. It was nice to fall into the familiar patterns...like two working as one in stereo. But the other cool thing is how I have grown since we last worked together..."when you can snatch the wirenut from my hand it will be time for you to go, grasshopper" Almost there.
And, as an added bonus, the rest of my old crew will be helping out on saturday and monday...Hoo Whee!I'm stoked.
Rusty, my friend and the journeyman I worked with at UT showed up at the job this morning and we got to work together on those panels upstairs. It was nice to fall into the familiar patterns...like two working as one in stereo. But the other cool thing is how I have grown since we last worked together..."when you can snatch the wirenut from my hand it will be time for you to go, grasshopper" Almost there.
And, as an added bonus, the rest of my old crew will be helping out on saturday and monday...Hoo Whee!I'm stoked.
Happiness is... a pair of cool shoes?
I went to the shoe store today at lunch to buy myself a new pair of practical, everyday shoes since my Doc Martins are at least 15 years old and have a worn down spot on the heel which has been giving me some lower back pain. I settled on a nice pair of black Fluevogs, but a very impractical pair of Converse style sneakers also caught my eye. Now I'm not one to spend money on myself very often and I'm certainly not much of a shoe buyer (Rob has more pairs of shoes than I do), but I couldn't take my eye off these shoes. Of course, it's not that unusual for me to want something that catches my eye, but it is very unusual for me to want something bad enough that I seriously consider buying it. And it's even rarer that I actually go through the process of purchasing it. Yet, the desire for this completely impractical pair of footwear was so great that I walked out of the store with a pair of these:
(picture snagged off the Draven website)
I put them on the moment I got back to my desk at work (even though I was breaking dress code) and I smiled the whole rest of the day. If you had told me this morning that a new pair of shoes would make me happy, I'd have refused to believe it. Just further proof that joy is sometimes found where you'd least expect it.
I went to the shoe store today at lunch to buy myself a new pair of practical, everyday shoes since my Doc Martins are at least 15 years old and have a worn down spot on the heel which has been giving me some lower back pain. I settled on a nice pair of black Fluevogs, but a very impractical pair of Converse style sneakers also caught my eye. Now I'm not one to spend money on myself very often and I'm certainly not much of a shoe buyer (Rob has more pairs of shoes than I do), but I couldn't take my eye off these shoes. Of course, it's not that unusual for me to want something that catches my eye, but it is very unusual for me to want something bad enough that I seriously consider buying it. And it's even rarer that I actually go through the process of purchasing it. Yet, the desire for this completely impractical pair of footwear was so great that I walked out of the store with a pair of these:
(picture snagged off the Draven website)
I put them on the moment I got back to my desk at work (even though I was breaking dress code) and I smiled the whole rest of the day. If you had told me this morning that a new pair of shoes would make me happy, I'd have refused to believe it. Just further proof that joy is sometimes found where you'd least expect it.
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME V.5
Ozzy...How is it possible that he's still alive? How is it possible that he can still make music? And most of all what fucking language is he speaking??? He's a british version of mumbles from dick tracy for gods sake! Gotta love it, and him!
( Ok...so I'm running short of things that mystify me, but still...Ozzy rules :) )
Check out these other bloggers going off the rails of a bloghuh? train...
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
In the Aquarium
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
London Daily Photo
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Tabula Rasa
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
THESE HANDS
So deflicted, I can't play my guitar without crying the tears of jeebus...and that's a sin people...
click here for a bigger version...
This life makes you hard...and a crybaby I suppose :)
Deflicted hands...wah wah wah.
So deflicted, I can't play my guitar without crying the tears of jeebus...and that's a sin people...
click here for a bigger version...
This life makes you hard...and a crybaby I suppose :)
Deflicted hands...wah wah wah.
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME V.4
Crybabies mystify me. And I don't mean babies that cry, I mean full grown adults that bemoan thier lives ... nay ... Piss and moan about thier lives at an almost nonstop pace.
Are they simply beating themselves up because they enjoy it? Sort of a psychic self flagellation? Or is it some weird form of munchausen's by proxy where they derive some satisfaction by projecting all the bad karma onto someone else? And receive the empathy that is like emotional crack?
People have issues...I know it's hard to beleive, but even I have issues, but I also have boundaries...I'll let you know what's going on with me to a degree, but I save my deep emotional sharing for Annabelle or a couple of very select close friends ( a very infrequent sharing in this case, and usually drink is involved ). I have shared some deeply emotional thoughts and events here, but I see that as a different animal. To some degree, this is journalism (ahem) and the point of writing is to convey thoughts and feelings that conjure thoughts and feelings in the reader. So, shut up about the hypocrite thing :)
Sometimes people think too much about thier station in life and do too little about it.
We all feel sorry for ourselves sometimes, but to make self abasement the focus of your life mystifies me. Sometimes the best course is to hunker down and do what you know, and the details of what you need to know will fall into place.
One thing I know from my years in the social work field that is rock solid to this day is, sometimes you can think about your shit too much, or as some great philosopher said long ago, "make a mountain out of a mole hill".
Read more about things that mystify others at participating Bloghuh? blogs this week:
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
In the Aquarium
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
London Daily Photo
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
BIG SUNDAY REVISITED
Tom Waits and bloodies turned into one great drunken adventure. As I left the house for Best buy to buy a gigantic CD wallet ( holds 363 cds ) cause I was tired of the clutter and the whole keeping them in thier cases (not) this wallet solution was genious on my part, Annabelle informs me it is Ashleighs birthday. Dammit! We love this girl! She is my little sister I never had...So, on my way to Best buy, I re-route to the third world and buy that girl some flowers. It's in the opposite direction, but who fucking cares? I'm half in the bag, logic defies me. Plus, it's little sisters birthday. I pick a giant boquet of psychedelic pansies or dasies...they were awesome. As I'm checking out in the 10 items or less lane, there's this asshole behind me talking on a bluetooth headset unloading his groceries in a way that only an asshole with a bluetooth headset could and then he pushes dear Ashlieghs flowers out of his way and potentially bruises the here to now pristine daiseys. I turn and face this ass and yell in his face " You need to CHILL the FUCK out motherfucker!!!" I think this kind of shit alot but rarely express it aloud, but remember, I was 1.5 sheets to the wind and I was on a mission. he backed up.
I was wearing my "Holy shit! Man walks on fucking moon!" t shirt, my hair was down and I was wearing my ozzy shades...he was clearly baffled, and I think, terrified.
It was awesome. It was right up there with when an unfamiliar dog jumps up in your shit. I scared the fuck out of him and then turned to the wide eyed cashier, got my change and hoped mr. bluetooth would follow mwe outside so I could kick that ridiculous earpiece into his ass. He didn't. Probably a good thing.
On to Ash's...I hadn't been to her place in the daytime in a long long time, plus I was processing vodka...so I went to the wrong house.
I'm pounding on the door with this giant crazy bunch of flowers when i hear a womans voice say "who is it?" it was the kind of voice that had crazy written all over it. I say "It's ROB!" crazy voice say's "Rob who?". I say "Rob CLATTENBURG!!!" The voice says " I don't KNOW YOU.
I think to my drunken self..."Self, maybe you got the wrong house", so I announce: I'm looking for Ashleigh XXXXXXX's" . I am directed one house to the left...we share some niceities through the door as she unloads her shotgun and then I'm pounding on Ash's door...I wake her up, but she answers the door all bleary eyed and tossled hair
I deliver the psychedelic flowers much to her delight and after some hugs and chat she goes back to bed and I head out to best buy...
Tom Waits and bloodies turned into one great drunken adventure. As I left the house for Best buy to buy a gigantic CD wallet ( holds 363 cds ) cause I was tired of the clutter and the whole keeping them in thier cases (not) this wallet solution was genious on my part, Annabelle informs me it is Ashleighs birthday. Dammit! We love this girl! She is my little sister I never had...So, on my way to Best buy, I re-route to the third world and buy that girl some flowers. It's in the opposite direction, but who fucking cares? I'm half in the bag, logic defies me. Plus, it's little sisters birthday. I pick a giant boquet of psychedelic pansies or dasies...they were awesome. As I'm checking out in the 10 items or less lane, there's this asshole behind me talking on a bluetooth headset unloading his groceries in a way that only an asshole with a bluetooth headset could and then he pushes dear Ashlieghs flowers out of his way and potentially bruises the here to now pristine daiseys. I turn and face this ass and yell in his face " You need to CHILL the FUCK out motherfucker!!!" I think this kind of shit alot but rarely express it aloud, but remember, I was 1.5 sheets to the wind and I was on a mission. he backed up.
I was wearing my "Holy shit! Man walks on fucking moon!" t shirt, my hair was down and I was wearing my ozzy shades...he was clearly baffled, and I think, terrified.
It was awesome. It was right up there with when an unfamiliar dog jumps up in your shit. I scared the fuck out of him and then turned to the wide eyed cashier, got my change and hoped mr. bluetooth would follow mwe outside so I could kick that ridiculous earpiece into his ass. He didn't. Probably a good thing.
On to Ash's...I hadn't been to her place in the daytime in a long long time, plus I was processing vodka...so I went to the wrong house.
I'm pounding on the door with this giant crazy bunch of flowers when i hear a womans voice say "who is it?" it was the kind of voice that had crazy written all over it. I say "It's ROB!" crazy voice say's "Rob who?". I say "Rob CLATTENBURG!!!" The voice says " I don't KNOW YOU.
I think to my drunken self..."Self, maybe you got the wrong house", so I announce: I'm looking for Ashleigh XXXXXXX's" . I am directed one house to the left...we share some niceities through the door as she unloads her shotgun and then I'm pounding on Ash's door...I wake her up, but she answers the door all bleary eyed and tossled hair
I deliver the psychedelic flowers much to her delight and after some hugs and chat she goes back to bed and I head out to best buy...
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME - V.3 
Birds on the wires...on my way home from work I see these birds congregating on the power lines...thousands of them. Always at dusk. Why do they do this? Today, I took pictures...
The gathering flock...
Mas birds!!!
Nature is amazing...
Speaking of amazing, check these other BlogHuh? playas...
Birds on the wires...on my way home from work I see these birds congregating on the power lines...thousands of them. Always at dusk. Why do they do this? Today, I took pictures...
The gathering flock...
Mas birds!!!
Nature is amazing...
Speaking of amazing, check these other BlogHuh? playas...
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?
Monday, January 08, 2007
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME...V.2
Or, to be blunt, we were robbed over the weekend. Not me and Annabelle, my company and our jobsite. Of somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 to 500 pounds of copper wire. The going rate for scrap copper is in the range of 3 to 4 US dollars ( I'm reminded of a National Lampoon article from my high school days where a Vietnamese woman is quoted to say " american money is worthless in Viet Nam, but 2 or 3 hundred dollars rolled up together makes for an effective tampon") Anyway, back to the robbery. An unbelievable hassle for us because they stole it from our panels....from the outside feed from the city, 50 feet into and up to the second floor to the main inside panel. We had terminated the outside panel, that is to say, we had made our connections, but inside we did not...figuring that inside with a guard...our slack wire would be safe, plus some of the crew worked an 8 on saturday finishing lighting. Wrong.
Now, what's the haul here? Let's say 400 pounds of copper on the mid end of 3.25 USD a pound. $1300.00 USD...that's alot of tampons dude!
It was obvious the wire had been cut with a cutter designed for it and not a jig or hack saw. In fact, our gang boxes had been broken into ( with a key ) and our bolt cutters were gone. Hmmmmmm.
It was also obvious that right to left our criminals had intended to leave us enough wire to land our connections but got distracted and fucked us royal on the last few cuts. So, we had to pull out 12 conducting wires and 3 grounds, buy new wire and repull it. To the tune of $4600 USD time and material. ( Not to mention those Vietnamese women reduced to using Bhat...man:) I can drive trivia into the fucking ground. huh? Well it is Bloghuh? so piss off.
Amazingly, none of this mystifies me. I understand theft, I understand criminals, I understand 1300.00 for 45 minutes work. what I don't understand is the reaction of the crew and owners. The perps left clues...namely Beer cans...24 ounce cans of a particular brand that I and most of you would describe as (in the most kindest terms) as "Yak Urine" or "Marmot pre-cum". And there is a company employee who drinks this "Vole Piss" , so folks are speculating it was an inside job.
And that's what mystifies me about this...it's two fold...why would anyone steal from a company providing them a good living? I know that's a bit naive, but it would never occur to me, I mean, I've taken a pencil or pen home over the years, but come on. And, the people pointed out in the knitting circle of hens that are electricians as the perps gives you a clear idea of the pecking order.
Man...all this gave me was an 11 hour day, sore shoulders, a nasty gash to my left thumb, and a need to scratch my head again about the ability of people to talk shit.
And for the record, my money is on those crack head, paid by the day assholes that wear orange vests and push brooms around all day for 6.00 an hour that couldn't say enough to me about the scrap copper from the first pull, but I'm just sayin'.
Go ahead...read some more from these folks who are mystified by shit...I dare you. Really...
Now, what's the haul here? Let's say 400 pounds of copper on the mid end of 3.25 USD a pound. $1300.00 USD...that's alot of tampons dude!
It was obvious the wire had been cut with a cutter designed for it and not a jig or hack saw. In fact, our gang boxes had been broken into ( with a key ) and our bolt cutters were gone. Hmmmmmm.
It was also obvious that right to left our criminals had intended to leave us enough wire to land our connections but got distracted and fucked us royal on the last few cuts. So, we had to pull out 12 conducting wires and 3 grounds, buy new wire and repull it. To the tune of $4600 USD time and material. ( Not to mention those Vietnamese women reduced to using Bhat...man:) I can drive trivia into the fucking ground. huh? Well it is Bloghuh? so piss off.
Amazingly, none of this mystifies me. I understand theft, I understand criminals, I understand 1300.00 for 45 minutes work. what I don't understand is the reaction of the crew and owners. The perps left clues...namely Beer cans...24 ounce cans of a particular brand that I and most of you would describe as (in the most kindest terms) as "Yak Urine" or "Marmot pre-cum". And there is a company employee who drinks this "Vole Piss" , so folks are speculating it was an inside job.
And that's what mystifies me about this...it's two fold...why would anyone steal from a company providing them a good living? I know that's a bit naive, but it would never occur to me, I mean, I've taken a pencil or pen home over the years, but come on. And, the people pointed out in the knitting circle of hens that are electricians as the perps gives you a clear idea of the pecking order.
Man...all this gave me was an 11 hour day, sore shoulders, a nasty gash to my left thumb, and a need to scratch my head again about the ability of people to talk shit.
And for the record, my money is on those crack head, paid by the day assholes that wear orange vests and push brooms around all day for 6.00 an hour that couldn't say enough to me about the scrap copper from the first pull, but I'm just sayin'.
Go ahead...read some more from these folks who are mystified by shit...I dare you. Really...
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
Purple Pen
Santiago Dreaming
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From
THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME...
Me and cables, wires. extension cords, rope, string, twine,fishing line...you name it. If I lay hands on it, sometimes I can just look at it it seems, it becomes a horrible tangled mess. It's not so bad these days, what with being an electrician I've had to confront this issue with some degree of success. But back when the band was really active and playing out alot, I would be relegated to setting up the drum riser and speaker stands to keep me from turning our main cables and mic cables into the cats cradle from hell. Christmas lights were especially troublesome.
I have never understood this and believe it should be in the DSM (whater ever version they are up to now ) as Wire dysphoria ( unspecified type ).
Read more things that mystify these people this week, as we plod through "bloghuh? week". Enjoy!
I have never understood this and believe it should be in the DSM (whater ever version they are up to now ) as Wire dysphoria ( unspecified type ).
Read more things that mystify these people this week, as we plod through "bloghuh? week". Enjoy!
Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Depthmarker
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
Purple Pen
Santiago Dreaming
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
GROWTH RETARDING THERAPY?WTF IS THAT?
Parents of a severely cognitively and physically disabled girl have publicly defended their decision to retard her growth through the use of hormonal therapy and surgery, saying they were acting out of love and compassion. This is the opening of an article at Medpage Today
I first saw this story at CNN yesterday, a condensed version that descibed procedures to remove her reproductive organs, breast "buds" (what the hell are those???) and massive hormone therapy all designed to keep her at her current managable size for the remainder of her life. She is profoundly retarded, in effect an infant at 9 years old. This will never, ever change. And the parents contend they opted for this so they could continue to provide thier "pillow angel's" "quality of life" for a longer period of time as opposed to allowing her to mature and "experience the pain and confusion of menstruation" and have lumps on her chest that would frighten and confuse her...or something to that effect.
OK...I have a real problem with this. Having worked with the profoundly retarded in my youth at a not so little tard warehouse called Travis State School, I have seen the "quality" of life broccoli-humans like the pillow angel experience...22 hours a day in a bed (gurney) , 2 hours in a wheelchair out on the porch, someone feeds you mush three times a day, and intermittantly wipes that mush off your undercarriage and gives you a clean nappy after checking for the bedsores that can lead to infection and pain and death. In fact, my own father spent the last 9 years of his life enduring the same routine over and over and over again, until he finally died from th' newmoanee. It is important to point out that Dad was not retarded at birth, a stroke kicked his ass, hard. Any hoo...back to the pillow angel.
These people have radically altered her natural progression in life, being you are born, you live and grow, and then, at some point you snuff it.
Her parents clearly , a: love her dearly, b: don't want to deal with the period thing,ever, c: can't lift anything over 65 lbs (or don't want to), d: wish they had sunk her in the river in a burlap bag with a cinder block like an unwanted litter of kittens when they found out she was so much produce saddling them for life. I suspect it's a little bit of all of these feelings. I don't judge them at all, but I question their judgement. I applaude them for keeping a "special needs" child in the home, but have serious reservations about how they are medically making it convenient to do so. As well as the doctors willing to do it for them. According to the article, much thought and discussion was put into deciding the pillow angels fate, but did she have a say? Of course not, she's profoundly retarded...and while I'm thinking about it what kind of fucked up oxymoron is that???
This is a tough one to call folks...if I ever had a tard baby, I would probably sell him or her to the carnival or for medical experiments (just kidding)...I don't know what I'd do, unless it had down's syndrome and was a boy, if that were the case I'd groom him for the broadway revival and feature length movie of that TV show Life goes on and make a shitload of cash doing it ( still kidding...well maybe ).
This family has my empathy, first for having a child that I'm sure they thought would have 10 fingers and toes, only to find out they had a burden for life that they love. And secondly for the media shit storm that's brewing around thier attempts to do the right thing.
Man.
I first saw this story at CNN yesterday, a condensed version that descibed procedures to remove her reproductive organs, breast "buds" (what the hell are those???) and massive hormone therapy all designed to keep her at her current managable size for the remainder of her life. She is profoundly retarded, in effect an infant at 9 years old. This will never, ever change. And the parents contend they opted for this so they could continue to provide thier "pillow angel's" "quality of life" for a longer period of time as opposed to allowing her to mature and "experience the pain and confusion of menstruation" and have lumps on her chest that would frighten and confuse her...or something to that effect.
OK...I have a real problem with this. Having worked with the profoundly retarded in my youth at a not so little tard warehouse called Travis State School, I have seen the "quality" of life broccoli-humans like the pillow angel experience...22 hours a day in a bed (gurney) , 2 hours in a wheelchair out on the porch, someone feeds you mush three times a day, and intermittantly wipes that mush off your undercarriage and gives you a clean nappy after checking for the bedsores that can lead to infection and pain and death. In fact, my own father spent the last 9 years of his life enduring the same routine over and over and over again, until he finally died from th' newmoanee. It is important to point out that Dad was not retarded at birth, a stroke kicked his ass, hard. Any hoo...back to the pillow angel.
These people have radically altered her natural progression in life, being you are born, you live and grow, and then, at some point you snuff it.
Her parents clearly , a: love her dearly, b: don't want to deal with the period thing,ever, c: can't lift anything over 65 lbs (or don't want to), d: wish they had sunk her in the river in a burlap bag with a cinder block like an unwanted litter of kittens when they found out she was so much produce saddling them for life. I suspect it's a little bit of all of these feelings. I don't judge them at all, but I question their judgement. I applaude them for keeping a "special needs" child in the home, but have serious reservations about how they are medically making it convenient to do so. As well as the doctors willing to do it for them. According to the article, much thought and discussion was put into deciding the pillow angels fate, but did she have a say? Of course not, she's profoundly retarded...and while I'm thinking about it what kind of fucked up oxymoron is that???
This is a tough one to call folks...if I ever had a tard baby, I would probably sell him or her to the carnival or for medical experiments (just kidding)...I don't know what I'd do, unless it had down's syndrome and was a boy, if that were the case I'd groom him for the broadway revival and feature length movie of that TV show Life goes on and make a shitload of cash doing it ( still kidding...well maybe ).
This family has my empathy, first for having a child that I'm sure they thought would have 10 fingers and toes, only to find out they had a burden for life that they love. And secondly for the media shit storm that's brewing around thier attempts to do the right thing.
Man.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
SOME OTHER HEROS OF MINE...
Husker Du...amazing band, and while I wasn't at this London show in 85, I saw them at Liberty Lunch here in Austin in 87. The most amusing thing to me that night was my girl at the time carried a broken beer bottle in her sweater pocket cause she was freaked out by all the punks ( speed...I'm tellin' ya...:) ). But this was the encore, and after this tour they broke up. I got to see Bob Mould solo at the cavity club about 3 years later, but nothing can match the fury of the Du...Lots of other video at youtube. A veritable wall of sound for a 3 piece.
Enjoy....
Enjoy....
KISS ME ON THE BUS...
What a cool song, and Bob was still alive...he's the guy in the stupid shorts that tosses his guitar after the song and thumbs up it. I'm sorry to be inundating you with Replacements shit, but I loved those guys...check Paul with his stupid haircut and pre (?) dex overalls...Wow. But they ruled during this time yadayadayada.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
TWO OF MY FAVORITE REPLACEMENTS SONGS...
Answering Machine...
A song about being on tour I guess, at the very least, being away from an unavailable S/O...
1, 2, 3, 4
Try to breathe some life into a letter
Losing hope, never gonna be together
My courage is at it's peak
You know what I mean
How do say you're O.K. to
An answering machine?
How do you say good night to
An answering machine?
Big town's got its losers
Small town's got its vices
A handful of friends
One needs a match, one needs some ice
Call-waiting phone in another time zone
How do you say I miss you to
An answering machine?
How do say good night to
An answering machine?
I get enough of that
Try to free a slave of ignorance
Try and teach a whore about romance
How do you say I miss you to
An answering machine?
How do you say good night to
An answering machine?
How do you say I'm lonely to
An answering machine?
The message is very plain
Oh, I hate your answering machine
I hate your answering machine
I hate your answering machine...
Here comes a regular...
Drunk and hopeless, which pretty much sums them up back in the day...
Well a person can work up a mean mean thirst
after a hard day of nothin' much at all
Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass
There ain't much to rake anyway in the fall
And sometimes I just ain't in the mood
to take my place in back with the loudmouths
You're like a picture on the fridge that's never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house
And everybody wants to be special here
They call your name out loud and clear
Here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one here today?
Well a drinkin' buddy that's bound to another town
Once the police made you go away
And even if you're in the arms of someone's baby now
I'll take a great big whiskey to ya anyway
Everybody wants to be someone's here
Someone's gonna show up, never fear
'cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?
Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts
First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain't much to rake anyway in the fall
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
GET OVER YOURSELF ALREADY
Advice I would be wise to take more times than I care to remember. This guy I'm working with recently left his wife of 10 or so years and is setting up a new life, and while ( according to him ) it was a largely miserable marriage, he's having a hard time with the new found seperation from a familiar yet, intolerable spouse and his 3 kids he clearly loves a great deal. You miss the familiar, right? Right...So, I get the venting...and lots of it.
This morning he was reeling from the final "exchanging of the prisoners" weekend...clearing out the house, splitting up the years of accumulated memories defined by stuff...you know, your stuff, my stuff...stuff. He was clearly upset by this, and while construction workers...electricians in our case, are not the most therapeutically minded people in the world, you know dealing with feelings and all. This guy is very open about his shit, to anyone who will listen. While that works in some circles, it doesn't always work so well with us electricians. Remember, I was a social worker type for years, so men expressing feelings and crying is completely normal to me, some guys it just freaks out.Most of those guys, it turns out are electricians ( go figure) .
I understand what he's going through, I went through it when I was his age, I don't mind listening to him process his grief. I understand it's important. He's a new breed...construction worker/has feelings and shares them...those fucking 30 somethings, I tell ya, what have we done to ourselves?
So to him I say "Get over yourself already" , when you are, and I'm your friend so, dude, I'm gonna listen and give you the benefit of my experience (If you want it or not), quit apologizing to me for being human.
Other than that we started installing our outdoor service panels today, I pinched the fuck out of my hand with the super jumbo knock out set ( it makes holes in metal enclosures ) giving myself the biggest blood blister I've had in years.
That's all that happened today.
This morning he was reeling from the final "exchanging of the prisoners" weekend...clearing out the house, splitting up the years of accumulated memories defined by stuff...you know, your stuff, my stuff...stuff. He was clearly upset by this, and while construction workers...electricians in our case, are not the most therapeutically minded people in the world, you know dealing with feelings and all. This guy is very open about his shit, to anyone who will listen. While that works in some circles, it doesn't always work so well with us electricians. Remember, I was a social worker type for years, so men expressing feelings and crying is completely normal to me, some guys it just freaks out.Most of those guys, it turns out are electricians ( go figure) .
I understand what he's going through, I went through it when I was his age, I don't mind listening to him process his grief. I understand it's important. He's a new breed...construction worker/has feelings and shares them...those fucking 30 somethings, I tell ya, what have we done to ourselves?
So to him I say "Get over yourself already" , when you are, and I'm your friend so, dude, I'm gonna listen and give you the benefit of my experience (If you want it or not), quit apologizing to me for being human.
Other than that we started installing our outdoor service panels today, I pinched the fuck out of my hand with the super jumbo knock out set ( it makes holes in metal enclosures ) giving myself the biggest blood blister I've had in years.
That's all that happened today.
Monday, January 01, 2007
JUST BECAUSE...
The reason for the season
Ann and her mama
Brandy, Sean and Kyle
The core fam...dude, we rule.
The best gift ever
All grown up...
His corner since he could fit in it...check the nutcracker...
WE ARE THE SONS OF NO ONE
Bastards of young. The daughters and the sons.
I bought the Replacements "Don't you know who I think I was?" best of CD yesterday. Half way through it I was crying like a bitch. Sure, I was drunk...it was new years, come on. But on a more or less sober listening today, this best of is the maudlin best of. If you aren't familiar with the Replacements, they were the drunkinest bunch of mid 80's punks out of minneapolis. I saw them "open" for Tom Petty once...they were so fucked up they couldn't get off a song without imploding on each other after 4 or so bars. When they finally sat down, feet dangling off the Frank Erwin center stage, they delivered a campfire singalong worthy of a kegger in the woods, but not in the fucking Frank Erwin center, opening for Petty.
And thats why I love them...that and thier albums, some of the best songwriting ever. "Tim" is a good place to start...or "Pleased to meet me".
She's achin' to be...Just like me.
Man.
I bought the Replacements "Don't you know who I think I was?" best of CD yesterday. Half way through it I was crying like a bitch. Sure, I was drunk...it was new years, come on. But on a more or less sober listening today, this best of is the maudlin best of. If you aren't familiar with the Replacements, they were the drunkinest bunch of mid 80's punks out of minneapolis. I saw them "open" for Tom Petty once...they were so fucked up they couldn't get off a song without imploding on each other after 4 or so bars. When they finally sat down, feet dangling off the Frank Erwin center stage, they delivered a campfire singalong worthy of a kegger in the woods, but not in the fucking Frank Erwin center, opening for Petty.
And thats why I love them...that and thier albums, some of the best songwriting ever. "Tim" is a good place to start...or "Pleased to meet me".
She's achin' to be...Just like me.
Man.
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