The return of the goatee

The other day I decided to start growing the old goatee again. I successfully had something that resembles a goatee last year when I refused to shave for a few weeks and then shaved everything off except the place where this weird little beard is supposed to be. Most "manly" men that I know can grow a full beard in their sleep or just before dinner time.

For me, it takes months of patient growth and people asking me, "what's that on your face?" My facial hair grows very slowly and selectively--missing a few key areas required by goatee enthusiasts (I just made that term up). However, if I don't clip them off religiously two or three times a day, I can have a full set of antlers before sundown.

Take this picture, for instance, of me in San Diego a few months ago. It would have been such a nice picture if not for the antlers. The only good thing about being able to grow antlers is that it provides a regular source of income with the local taxidermist. Wish me luck on the goatee.

Citizen's Arrest! Citizen's Arrest! Sort of.

The other day I had visions of Gomer Pyle screaming, "Citizen's Arrest! Citizen's Arrest!" at me while I was driving the wife and kids down the road in the family truckster. As I looked into the driver's side rear view mirror (our real rear view mirror fell off the window a few weeks ago and I've yet to fix it), I noticed a snappy white SUV pulling up on my bumper and waving at me to pull over. Of course, I thought of all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't let a complete stranger pull me over, but I did it anyway. Usually, when other drivers are upset with you, they just give you the old "one-finger salute" (also referenced in this blog as the "you're number one!" gesture). So, I figured that there was probably something wrong with my van or that I might have been dragging a dog on a leash for the last several miles (that's my second reference to the movie Vacation). This feller and I would resort to some manly talk about vehicles, oil, grease, tools or some other masculine subject while the women-folk and kids stayed in the trucksters.

WRONG!

As soon as I reached for the door handle, I figured out WHY he was waving me over. For the past few days, there was something sitting on the bumper of the mini-van. Every time I looked at it, I just assumed that one of the kids would take care of it and surely we wouldn't drive off with it still there. Besides that, it would fall off somewhere and I could care less.

WRONG AGAIN!

As I was walking to the back of the car to meet this stranger at the bumper it seemed as if every step was in slow motion. I kept my head low and stared at the ground. I couldn't bear to make eye contact with this guy. I turned the corner at the back of the van and looked up at the bumper to see my hunch revealed. Still sitting--just as the kids left it--on the bumper of the van was a cute little pink bag with a red heart...











And inside that cute little pink bag with the red heart sat six little bouncy balls...










I waived off Mr. Pyle (although I was the one feeling like a "gomer" at this point) and told him I knew what it was and thanked him for pointing it out--we sure wouldn't want to lose all of those bouncy balls.

Even though it's not her fault, I've decided to blame this blow to my masculinity on Aunt Leah, the Bouncy Ball Fairy.

"Hot Feeling" from The Daily Journal

While I cannot come up with anything original today, I can share something that I wrote over a year ago on another site:

May 17, 2006 We had a Japanese client visit our office for a few days and one of my jobs was to take him out to eat a few times. We visited my favorite Thai restaurant in town and had some VERY SPICY dishes. The next morning he approached me and said, "I had a very hot feeling in the toilet this morning

This was NOT made up, by the way.

FYI - "The Daily Journal" was my original "blog". It was created by Uvulapie, who allowed me and scott to be regular contributors.

Classic Quote from Miss Sniz

Yesterday the wife (aka "Miss Sniz") and I were doing some shopping at Costco when she made the most interesting observation. She's a big fan of croutons and we were considering whether or not to throw down the big bucks for a month's supply of stale bread. But this is not a decision that should be made willy nilly. In fact, as she put it:

"There are a lot of flavorless croutons out there."

That made the decision so easy. We put the big box down and made our way through the rest of the store and eventually the check out lane. However, on the way home, we second-guessed our choice to pass up the Big 'Ol One Pound Pack 'O Bacon. What were we thinking?

Slow News Day?

First off, I have to admit that I'm blatantly stealing this idea from a friend. In fact, it's the same friend who had me as his Best Man in his wedding just a few weeks ago.

Just yesterday he pointed out that it must have been a slow news day for our local Indianapolis Star. Here's the proof:

Making My Mistakes Interesting

We've been trapped (sort of) in our addition for the past three months due to the construction of a round-a-bout at a busy corner in our bustling bedroom community. Well, last night I heard that our corner had been re-opened. How could I pass up the opportunity to drive on it this morning during my regular commute? Right? At this point in the story, I should point out that all of the stupid road closings in our area have forced me to find new routes to work--and I've actually found one that I'll probably keep on using even when they DO finish up all of the construction around me.

But, as I said, I couldn't resist the opportunity to roll my wheels along the fresh pavement. I decided to try one of older get-to-work passages and stop for coffee at $tarbuck$ along the way (a treat I rarely allow myself these days). This particular route used to be one that I took every day, even in the midst of the Super 70 construction. The Super 70 project along I-70 continues, but they've finished one side of the interstate and have moved traffic to the new lanes. Being a creature of habit (even though I haven't taken this route in a while) I just kept driving. By the time that I figured out what I had done, I had to wait another 6 miles until I could turn around at an exit. I estimated that I drove 8-10 miles out of my way and there was nothing I could do about it.

Sometimes, we make mistakes that don't seem to have any consequences (they all do, but that's another blog entry). Other times (like today) we make mistakes and we have to go way out of our way to get things straightened out--and by that time there are plenty of consequences to deal with--like being really late for work.

As I look back and read this entry, it's not all that interesting, so I'm going to ask my faithful readers to finish it and/or embellish it. Have at it...

Finally, an AFFORDABLE Rocket Belt

This morning I got my daily tech news update that I subscribe to and found out about a new Rocket Belt available from the good folks at TAM. Perhaps my favorite part of the web page is how TAM tries to steer potential customers away from those OTHER rocket belt alternatives on the market:

"Be aware of people that offer plans, parts or a rocket belt that has not flown and tested because you could be killed."

At just $250,000 you get the following:

1. A fully-tested, custom-made flying rocket belt, (duh!)
2. This belt has been proved to be the most stable design and easier to fly
3. A special machine to make our own unlimited supply of rocket fuel
4. Hands-on training in the process and the equipment
5. Flight training of 10 flights in your own rocket belt
6. Maintenance and setup training
7. 24/7 expert support
8. Housing and food are included during training

Heck, I'd pay $250,000 just to be able to make my own unlimited supply of rocket fuel. Wouldn't the guys at NASA want to get a hold of this "special machine"?

Plus, it's made in Mexico (the home of space flight), so you know it's good.

Not too long ago there was a slight sign malfunction at one of our Avon Asian food eateries. Fortunately, no walls were eaten. However, I heard a rumor that customers DID nibble, ever so slightly, on the floor.