In the middle of March at 3:00PM My Mother, 9 months pregnant turned on Days of our lives. I, at the time sat in my Mothers belly and had to listen to the 3:00 drama unfold once again as I had done every weekday for the previous 9 months. The high testosterone levels in my body couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't take another 5 minutes of estrogen filled stories of love, hate, lust and drama. At 3:05PM My mother went into labor. At 3:15PM I scrambled for the light and came into this world. The first words that I heard as a fully functioning man child was "it's a boy!". I was a boy, a little man. A man. That was my start. As a boy growing up My parents didn't dress me in pink, Didn't put my hair up in curls, didn't call me names like precious or princess. I was raised a man.
The title of my blog is "The Demasculanization of Society". The reason I decided to write about it is because this has become a major issue in the last 20 years. We have men who want to become women, women who want to become men. Homosexuality has become so popular that it is not politically correct to condemn or frown upon the Sodomic lifestyle. There isn't a show on television that doesn't have a fancy pants rainbow runner in it. In the past 20 years I have watched the media and "alternate" living individuals demasculanize society and I am tired of it. I don't want my kid sent home from school because he punches another boy who wants to play kissing tag.
After giving the subject a lot of thought I have come to the hypothesis of why society has made such a change and I am prepared to say that it is because of the Minivan. Now before you laugh and stop reading hear me out. The minivan came out nearly 20 years ago and that was the start of it. Yesterday as I stood at the gas station pumping 60 dollars worth of liquid platinum into my truck I watched a man pull up in a minivan. As I studied the man I noticed that he wouldn't look me in the eyes, he never smiled and walked with a slouchy lack of confidence. I could tell that this man was at one time probably a mans of man but the minivan stole every bit of that away from him and he knew it. Oh if the kids he beat up in high school could see him now.
So what does the minivan have to do with this new generation of sissies? I think that when the minivan came out it seemed practical. A man and woman could load their whole family comfortably along with neighbor kids and their parents and their grandparents and so on and so on. Though the minivan had a tough time reaching 45 mph at grades over 2 percent, the gas mileage was good so it was worth it. Let me rephrase that It was practical and worth it to a woman. Women don't have the testosterone levels helping them see the clear view on the importance of fast cars or big trucks that men do. So the women in their persuasive nature were able to talk the men into going for the minivan. But something happened, young men as they do, started getting confused as they watched their fathers drive them around. They saw the testosterone built confidence vanish. No longer did they see their dads try to slyly sneak peeks behind their mom's back at attractive looking passing ladies. They noticed the opposite. They noticed their dads slouching lower and lower into their seats in shame only hoping not to be noticed. Boys started to be confused with their male role models. They saw their mothers showing stronger testosterone like traits while the levels of testosterone diminished in their fathers. Fathers social nature changed from talking to the guys about fast cars and women to trying to avoid any friends at all they didn't want to be seen in a minivan. I think that this confused children. The only men that the minivan men would talk to were other minivan men. The conversations became more sensitive. The minivan men were able to empathise with other minivan men, man's sensitivity levels gradually climbed to an all time high. Minivan offspring no longer wanted to be like their dads when they grew up, they wanted to be like mommy and that's how we got homosexuals.
Just a theory. You can agree or dis-agree. I just see it like it is. My dad never owned a minivan, and I will never own a minivan. I don't care how practical my wife or any other lady may make it sound. When I was a kid if we needed to be hauled around, my dad slapped a camper shell on the back of the truck and threw us in. We never needed seat belts and gas mileage? Who cares. We only live once and if we can't live life feeling the way we are supposed to feel what good is it.
If you read this and own a minivan, if you are a woman do your husband and children a favor and suggest selling it. That request will not fall on deaf ears. If you are a man, I think it is time for you to put your foot down. Refuses to drive the van or sell it. Ya gotta feel good about yourself.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
4 Lessons
I do a lot of dumb things in the course of a week and would like to share 4 lessons that I have learned in the past week. I share these lessons so that if you are ever faced with similiar circumstances you will be able to avoid them.
1. Never take your Labrador Retriever (that is trained to bring to your hand everything you shoot) to shoot a family of skunks.
2. Never drive a riding lawnmower over the top of a dead rotting rabbit.
3. Never try to work on a shorted out 3 phase irrigation pump (that is plugged in) with wet hands.
4. If your stomach hurts don't drink a whole bottle of Fleet phosphosoda.
All of the four actions gave less than desirable results. Some less desirable than others. Though all four were quite entertaining at the time, afterwards I came to the conclusion that in the future, if faced with similiar situations, I would have to resort to different solutions.
1. Never take your Labrador Retriever (that is trained to bring to your hand everything you shoot) to shoot a family of skunks.
2. Never drive a riding lawnmower over the top of a dead rotting rabbit.
3. Never try to work on a shorted out 3 phase irrigation pump (that is plugged in) with wet hands.
4. If your stomach hurts don't drink a whole bottle of Fleet phosphosoda.
All of the four actions gave less than desirable results. Some less desirable than others. Though all four were quite entertaining at the time, afterwards I came to the conclusion that in the future, if faced with similiar situations, I would have to resort to different solutions.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Big horns
This is a picture of the Bighorn mountains about 5 miles out of Sheridan. Cindy and I took the pic while we were out for a ride.
My hot wife and little boy
Thought I would include a pic of my hot wife and little boy for your viewing pleasure.
Scouts from last night
This pic is from scouts last night up on the divide out on the ranch. It is an awesome view.
Why?
The blog will be a little light today.
So last night I get home from taking my boy scouts out on a gps training barbecue driving lesson (don't ask) and it is about 10:00PM my bed time. I am an early riser so I have to be in bed by 10:30 at least to function. I normally wake up at 4:00 or 4:30 am so I really need to go to bed early to even function. Every now and then I grow a wild hair and stay up late. Last night I grew a wild hair and started watching some stupid show about this lady (played by Jennifer Lopez) who is abused by her husband so she runs away and learns how to fight. Eventually goes back to her husband and beats him up until he is dead. The show was absolutely one of the dumbest movies I have ever watched and I have watched some dumb movies. By the time it is over it is after midnight, and for some reason I am a little wound up. I turn off the TV and just lay in bed for about an hour until finally I fall asleep. Today I am dead. I woke up at 4:30 am and ran, felt pretty good but now I feel like crap and just want to go to bed. I don't know why I stayed up watching such a stupid show. I don't know why Hollywood produces such stupid shows. I don't know why I stopped and watched it. At no point and time was I into the dumb show. I don't know if my mind was in endurance mode just to see if I could finish such a foolish show. Seriously it was not worth it. I think that J-lo is overrated. I don't think that she is a good actress, I don't think that she is good looking, I don't think that she is a good singer. The fight scenes were horribly fake and come on, she studied fighting for one month and became an expert. COME ON! that's not going to happen I don't care if you are the seventh wonder of the world.
There is no point to my story. I am so tired I don't think that I could make a point if my finger was placed in a pencil sharpener. (I made that pencil thing up, was that a good analogy or am I just so tired that it sounded good?).
The moral of the story is: (if a moral is possible without having a point or are they the same thing?) well I guess I don't have a moral either.
I hope that anyone who reads this can forgive me for wasting their time. I would bet that you are now dumber for having read this.
So last night I get home from taking my boy scouts out on a gps training barbecue driving lesson (don't ask) and it is about 10:00PM my bed time. I am an early riser so I have to be in bed by 10:30 at least to function. I normally wake up at 4:00 or 4:30 am so I really need to go to bed early to even function. Every now and then I grow a wild hair and stay up late. Last night I grew a wild hair and started watching some stupid show about this lady (played by Jennifer Lopez) who is abused by her husband so she runs away and learns how to fight. Eventually goes back to her husband and beats him up until he is dead. The show was absolutely one of the dumbest movies I have ever watched and I have watched some dumb movies. By the time it is over it is after midnight, and for some reason I am a little wound up. I turn off the TV and just lay in bed for about an hour until finally I fall asleep. Today I am dead. I woke up at 4:30 am and ran, felt pretty good but now I feel like crap and just want to go to bed. I don't know why I stayed up watching such a stupid show. I don't know why Hollywood produces such stupid shows. I don't know why I stopped and watched it. At no point and time was I into the dumb show. I don't know if my mind was in endurance mode just to see if I could finish such a foolish show. Seriously it was not worth it. I think that J-lo is overrated. I don't think that she is a good actress, I don't think that she is good looking, I don't think that she is a good singer. The fight scenes were horribly fake and come on, she studied fighting for one month and became an expert. COME ON! that's not going to happen I don't care if you are the seventh wonder of the world.
There is no point to my story. I am so tired I don't think that I could make a point if my finger was placed in a pencil sharpener. (I made that pencil thing up, was that a good analogy or am I just so tired that it sounded good?).
The moral of the story is: (if a moral is possible without having a point or are they the same thing?) well I guess I don't have a moral either.
I hope that anyone who reads this can forgive me for wasting their time. I would bet that you are now dumber for having read this.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Passing the Buck
Riddle's Dictionary defines passing the buck as: To be so afraid that others will realize your lack of qualifications and inability to perform a job that you are willing to offer up your friends, co-workers, employees and collegues to avoid realization of your complete in-ability to perform expected functions.
As I have ventured out of college and into the professional field I have noticed a sickening trend and that trend is passing the buck. I have never seen passing the buck so prevailent as it is right now. I noticed this disturbing trend while working for a large oil company. I will not name it because I don't want to let anyone down. Our love for big oil is evident by the fact that we are willing to pay $3.50 a gallon for gasoline . I saw more people that were trying so hard to climb the corporate ladder that they were willing to risk their integrity and friendships just to eliminate the possiblity of looking capable of making mistakes. What a waste. What ever happened to CAJONES? Why not admit your mistake and learn from it? I have seen people at the top of the corporate ladder so entangled with their own pride that they would rather pass the buck and loose the respect of their employees than to look under-qualified to their corporate equals.
I respect a man more for taking the buck and admitting his mistakes than the man that passes the buck to acquire a higher position. I think every one does. Am I wrong? Have we gotten so caught up in ourselves that we as a society think higher of cowards that do not make mistakes than of men that have the balls (sorry that's the best word I can think of) to take the buck themselves and show a little imperfection?
I will say that I have seen underqualified individuals rise to the top with deception and the help of strong buck passing skills but I have never seen one of these people last very long.
Respect is a tough thing to earn and an easy thing to loose.
To the Quarterbacks of the corporate buck game your sack will come.
To the Wide Recievers and the runnings backs that are catching the bucks, you will be the one that makes the touchdowns and you will know it. Be proud of it.
I don't know about you, but I love a running Quarterback.
.
As I have ventured out of college and into the professional field I have noticed a sickening trend and that trend is passing the buck. I have never seen passing the buck so prevailent as it is right now. I noticed this disturbing trend while working for a large oil company. I will not name it because I don't want to let anyone down. Our love for big oil is evident by the fact that we are willing to pay $3.50 a gallon for gasoline . I saw more people that were trying so hard to climb the corporate ladder that they were willing to risk their integrity and friendships just to eliminate the possiblity of looking capable of making mistakes. What a waste. What ever happened to CAJONES? Why not admit your mistake and learn from it? I have seen people at the top of the corporate ladder so entangled with their own pride that they would rather pass the buck and loose the respect of their employees than to look under-qualified to their corporate equals.
I respect a man more for taking the buck and admitting his mistakes than the man that passes the buck to acquire a higher position. I think every one does. Am I wrong? Have we gotten so caught up in ourselves that we as a society think higher of cowards that do not make mistakes than of men that have the balls (sorry that's the best word I can think of) to take the buck themselves and show a little imperfection?
I will say that I have seen underqualified individuals rise to the top with deception and the help of strong buck passing skills but I have never seen one of these people last very long.
Respect is a tough thing to earn and an easy thing to loose.
To the Quarterbacks of the corporate buck game your sack will come.
To the Wide Recievers and the runnings backs that are catching the bucks, you will be the one that makes the touchdowns and you will know it. Be proud of it.
I don't know about you, but I love a running Quarterback.
.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
My Uncle Jerry
I decided today that I would like to pick a random person to blog about. I think that I will do this every now and then just to give you and idea of the people that I know or grew up with. It will be in no specific order or specific criteria just random. I guess the only requirement is it has to be someone that means something to me.
Today I think that I will write about my Uncle Jerry. My Uncle Jerry is my Dad's Sister's Husband. I do not think that I will be able to describe what he looks like just what it seems to me he is like. My Uncle Jerry is someone that as a kid and as an adult I have always looked up to. When I was a kid, I remember him as always being kind. He is the kind of guy that when you are around him you feel like a million bucks. I remember as a kid watching him on his tractor and milking cows. He seemed like he was 10 feet tall. He always made me feel ten feet tall. He wasn't the kind of Uncle that you loved because he gave you gifts but the kind of Uncle that you loved because he loved you. My Uncle Jerry is Honest and a hard worker. I have always known him to be strong in his faith. I can't remember ever going to that little Antimony Church without watching my Uncle carry more than his weight. I think that he has not only been a strong influence to others in their personal lives but in their spiritual lives as well.
A few years ago my uncle found out he had cancer. He didn't curl up in a ball and give up but he took it on the way he took on life, with hard work, faith, prayers, and humility. He beat it. It was hard to see him move recently from his old homestead to a small city because for me that place was not that place without my Uncle Jerry. As a kid, young man and man I do not remember him ever missing an important event in my life. He was even there when I blessed my boy 5 months ago (which meant a lot to me). There aren't many people in my life that seem immortal but My Uncle Jerry is one of them. I hope one day that I can be the man that he is.
Today I think that I will write about my Uncle Jerry. My Uncle Jerry is my Dad's Sister's Husband. I do not think that I will be able to describe what he looks like just what it seems to me he is like. My Uncle Jerry is someone that as a kid and as an adult I have always looked up to. When I was a kid, I remember him as always being kind. He is the kind of guy that when you are around him you feel like a million bucks. I remember as a kid watching him on his tractor and milking cows. He seemed like he was 10 feet tall. He always made me feel ten feet tall. He wasn't the kind of Uncle that you loved because he gave you gifts but the kind of Uncle that you loved because he loved you. My Uncle Jerry is Honest and a hard worker. I have always known him to be strong in his faith. I can't remember ever going to that little Antimony Church without watching my Uncle carry more than his weight. I think that he has not only been a strong influence to others in their personal lives but in their spiritual lives as well.
A few years ago my uncle found out he had cancer. He didn't curl up in a ball and give up but he took it on the way he took on life, with hard work, faith, prayers, and humility. He beat it. It was hard to see him move recently from his old homestead to a small city because for me that place was not that place without my Uncle Jerry. As a kid, young man and man I do not remember him ever missing an important event in my life. He was even there when I blessed my boy 5 months ago (which meant a lot to me). There aren't many people in my life that seem immortal but My Uncle Jerry is one of them. I hope one day that I can be the man that he is.
Tagged
I guess I have been tagged and I guess that means that I have to answer a bunch of questions. So here goes.
1.How old is your blog?3 months old.
2. How would you categorize your blog? Random insanity mingled with sanity.
3. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered?No. I is who I is
4. Do you lie in your blog?No. not even on fish size.
5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? I will let you be the judge of that sucker.
6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop?No. I don't imagine that I would have anyone beg me not to write.
7. Have you deleted any of your own posts? Why? No, I have however written a couple of posts and didn't post them in fear of the outcome.
8. Do you delete mean comments?No. I welcome mean comments. I look forward to them because I they give me a chance to reply.
9. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less?That's a tough one. I think that I am an acquired taste. If you like my blog you would probably like me. If you don't like my blog you probably wouldn't like me.
10. How many blogs do you follow?I have a hard time following my own blog. I think that I need to learn to follow myself before I venture out on being a good follower. I do check in time to time on a few others.
11. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life?All of them. Hows that for a cop out?
12. Does your family read your blog? I think when they are extremely bored.
13. Do you have a hit counter? Yes How often do you check it?Not very often. Sometimes I hit myself like 20 times in a row so I look popular.
14. Is blogging narcissistic?depends
15. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time?Yes. I think that I owe it to my fan base to give regular blogs.
Bonus: Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? I think that I am the only person in Wyoming with a computer. I am not sure that I would ever be recognised. Plus, I don't have to "try" to look hot. Come on.
list 7 random things about me...
1. When I was 18 I fried my brain mixing PVC glue during the summer
2. I wear a 7 and 3/4 sized hat.
3. I spend an hour each night calling random people trying to get their social security numbers to sell over the Internet. Just kidding. I like to say random "crap" for the shock value.
4. I am 30 years old and still can't grow a very good beard.
5. I wanted to be an air force pilot until about 10th grade but decided not to because I was afraid of the math. So later I became an engineer-go figure.
6. My middle name is the initial G. and it doesn't stand for anything.
7. When I was a kid my dad told me his innie belly button was from getting shot with an arrow by an Indian. I believed the story until I was ten.
1.How old is your blog?3 months old.
2. How would you categorize your blog? Random insanity mingled with sanity.
3. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered?No. I is who I is
4. Do you lie in your blog?No. not even on fish size.
5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? I will let you be the judge of that sucker.
6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop?No. I don't imagine that I would have anyone beg me not to write.
7. Have you deleted any of your own posts? Why? No, I have however written a couple of posts and didn't post them in fear of the outcome.
8. Do you delete mean comments?No. I welcome mean comments. I look forward to them because I they give me a chance to reply.
9. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less?That's a tough one. I think that I am an acquired taste. If you like my blog you would probably like me. If you don't like my blog you probably wouldn't like me.
10. How many blogs do you follow?I have a hard time following my own blog. I think that I need to learn to follow myself before I venture out on being a good follower. I do check in time to time on a few others.
11. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life?All of them. Hows that for a cop out?
12. Does your family read your blog? I think when they are extremely bored.
13. Do you have a hit counter? Yes How often do you check it?Not very often. Sometimes I hit myself like 20 times in a row so I look popular.
14. Is blogging narcissistic?depends
15. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time?Yes. I think that I owe it to my fan base to give regular blogs.
Bonus: Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? I think that I am the only person in Wyoming with a computer. I am not sure that I would ever be recognised. Plus, I don't have to "try" to look hot. Come on.
list 7 random things about me...
1. When I was 18 I fried my brain mixing PVC glue during the summer
2. I wear a 7 and 3/4 sized hat.
3. I spend an hour each night calling random people trying to get their social security numbers to sell over the Internet. Just kidding. I like to say random "crap" for the shock value.
4. I am 30 years old and still can't grow a very good beard.
5. I wanted to be an air force pilot until about 10th grade but decided not to because I was afraid of the math. So later I became an engineer-go figure.
6. My middle name is the initial G. and it doesn't stand for anything.
7. When I was a kid my dad told me his innie belly button was from getting shot with an arrow by an Indian. I believed the story until I was ten.
Blogging about not Blogging
Holy Crap,
I haven't blogged for so long that I almost forgot my password. What has happened since my last Blog? Well, my wife Is expecting twins in August of 2010. I am thinking of getting another dog. My legs hurt. My car is dirtier than it has ever been. My boy got shots yesterday so his legs hurt too. I am the only one in the office today. It is Cloudy and 64 degrees at the time of this posting. It is supposed to rain tonight so I am happy. Sheridan is green. The grass is about 3ft tall everywhere. I have been shooting my bow because I am going to a 3-D shoot in Cody on Saturday. Two nights ago I woke up from three nightmares two of which I stabbed someone, one of which I got stabbed. (fell asleep to Pirates of the Caribbean, so I became a sword fighter that night). Cindy and I had our 7Th anniversary on Sunday. Best 8 years of my life. (except for the first 8 of unaccountability.) I met her in a sporting goods store 8 years to the day Monday. (Best fishing reel I have ever bought.) I got a new knife (courtesy of the wife) If you know me you know that I love pocket knives and have a new one on a monthly basis. I don't like cheap knives. The other day I pulled a large tick out of my dog's ear. The corn in my garden is starting to come out of the ground. I want to get a boat. My wife bought me a Bailey cowboy hat on Saturday for Fathers day. She didn't think that I should wear the hat with flip flops and lucky brand pants. So I will have to work on my cowboy getup. We started feeding my boy real food for the first time and he has done very well except after carrots, he didn't poop for two days and when that finally came It was quite a production. Zacchy boy just sat there smiling with pride as I loaded the wheel barrow up with his full diaper. Ok maybe it wasn't that bad. I got back on RockStar Energy drinks a couple of weeks ago and quit them again today. I finally called the Dish Company to fix the dish that they were supposed to fix 3 months ago so maybe it will get fixed. I haven't watched TV in the Living room for 3 months. The snakes are out again. I haven't seen any around the house and I haven't seen any rattlesnakes at all this year. I hate snakes. I think that I look pretty good in a cowboy hat. I think that it would be cool to wear to work. I think that it would be cool to wear sweat pants to work too but that would go over like a turd in a punch bowl. I think that I have tennis elbow from racket ball. Is it really tennis elbow? We took my boy to the Doctor for his six month shots. His head diameter was in the 90th percentile. (Like father like son.) I told the doctor that he was going to be a fighter (because it is hard to get knocked out with a big head) and the Fruity doc didn't humor me. My son has giant hands. I bet they are in the 120th percentile.
I have tried my best to catch up on the blog. I will try better to keep up with it. Just remember that Jesus still loves you.
I haven't blogged for so long that I almost forgot my password. What has happened since my last Blog? Well, my wife Is expecting twins in August of 2010. I am thinking of getting another dog. My legs hurt. My car is dirtier than it has ever been. My boy got shots yesterday so his legs hurt too. I am the only one in the office today. It is Cloudy and 64 degrees at the time of this posting. It is supposed to rain tonight so I am happy. Sheridan is green. The grass is about 3ft tall everywhere. I have been shooting my bow because I am going to a 3-D shoot in Cody on Saturday. Two nights ago I woke up from three nightmares two of which I stabbed someone, one of which I got stabbed. (fell asleep to Pirates of the Caribbean, so I became a sword fighter that night). Cindy and I had our 7Th anniversary on Sunday. Best 8 years of my life. (except for the first 8 of unaccountability.) I met her in a sporting goods store 8 years to the day Monday. (Best fishing reel I have ever bought.) I got a new knife (courtesy of the wife) If you know me you know that I love pocket knives and have a new one on a monthly basis. I don't like cheap knives. The other day I pulled a large tick out of my dog's ear. The corn in my garden is starting to come out of the ground. I want to get a boat. My wife bought me a Bailey cowboy hat on Saturday for Fathers day. She didn't think that I should wear the hat with flip flops and lucky brand pants. So I will have to work on my cowboy getup. We started feeding my boy real food for the first time and he has done very well except after carrots, he didn't poop for two days and when that finally came It was quite a production. Zacchy boy just sat there smiling with pride as I loaded the wheel barrow up with his full diaper. Ok maybe it wasn't that bad. I got back on RockStar Energy drinks a couple of weeks ago and quit them again today. I finally called the Dish Company to fix the dish that they were supposed to fix 3 months ago so maybe it will get fixed. I haven't watched TV in the Living room for 3 months. The snakes are out again. I haven't seen any around the house and I haven't seen any rattlesnakes at all this year. I hate snakes. I think that I look pretty good in a cowboy hat. I think that it would be cool to wear to work. I think that it would be cool to wear sweat pants to work too but that would go over like a turd in a punch bowl. I think that I have tennis elbow from racket ball. Is it really tennis elbow? We took my boy to the Doctor for his six month shots. His head diameter was in the 90th percentile. (Like father like son.) I told the doctor that he was going to be a fighter (because it is hard to get knocked out with a big head) and the Fruity doc didn't humor me. My son has giant hands. I bet they are in the 120th percentile.
I have tried my best to catch up on the blog. I will try better to keep up with it. Just remember that Jesus still loves you.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Deprived Blog
I know my blog has been lacking blogs lately. I promise to do better as soon as I get over this busy hump.
This is a picture of how the Memorial day weekend went. Cindy, Zach, my friend Brock and I went fishing near Buffalo. I caught this hog. I will not incriminate myself by giving the details of the catch. I will say that the catch was fun and nearly- justifiably legal. I think... And yes the fish is over 19 inches. And yes, I hadn't showered or shaved or changed clothes for over a week when the picture was taken. (ok maybe not that long)
Friday, May 18, 2007
Cops and Chinese food
Last night we went out to dinner with some friends. They were moving away and we wanted to have a nice goodbye dinner. So we went to a nice restaurant in fact down right fancy. I won't say the name of this classy establishment because they aren't paying me to advertise so I won't be their money vehicle. I will just say that the food had something to do with Chinese and a Buffet.
We met our friends at this fancy eatery. Pulled into a parking lot full of people and cars that would give Jeff Foxworthy enough redneck material to retire on. We exited our car and walked into a buffet paradise. I mean we are talking an assortment of magically glazed chicken and pork treats covered in specially aged, red, sticky, sweet and sour sauce. It was like walking into Disneyland, every one was happy. Big people, bigger people and even bigger people. Little dirty kids trying their darnedest to dip the community Ice cream scoop to get the perfect scoop of cream with the most amount of bubble gum or cookie dough only to end their ice cream excavation with a big lick on the community scooper.
I started my meal off with vintage 1994 crab legs caught of the coast of Mexico with a side of Jalapeno chicken flavored feline. That didn't quite hit the spot so I went back for more of the soft-shelled crab mush. This time changing the side dish to General Cho's Hot puppy parts topped off with something that was in a shrimp shape and was called breaded shrimp but one could make the argument that it was something else. After I polished off this tasty plate my stomach gave a warning rumble telling me to stop. I pushed it away and went back for a little desert and (of course) a little more time ripened crab. By the time I finished, my stomach was no longer giving warning rumbles, it submitted itself to a slow bubbling. I knew that I must get home fast. The problem was however, this was a "going away" dinner so we had to say our goodbyes to our friends. The goodbye episode lasted for about 30 minutes in the parking lot. By this time my stomach was at a full boil and I knew that I must get home fast. As we jumped into my wife's SUV, My boy began to cry. He wanted home too. So I practically jumped on the gas. We live about ten miles out of town so I knew that I must hurry. The ride on the paved road went smoothly it was the gravel road that didn't. I normally take the gravel road quite fast so thought nothing of driving the two miles of dirt posted at 30 mph at a brisk 45. As we rounded the turn about mid-way I passed a sheriff who flipped on his lights and pulled us over. About the time that I wanted My boy to start crying to show the cop why I was speeding, my baby fell asleep. The Cop came up to the window I thought of every excuse in the book. But every excuse that I could think of that I had been successful in executing in the past would have been a lie. And as much as I dis-like cops, I didn't feel like lying. So I became the nicest man in Wyoming. The Cop in turn was also rather friendly. I tried to explain that the sleeping baby in back was crying. I almost told him of my over-excited bowels but it was too late. Before I knew it smokey was nicely handing me a 110 dollar ticket. Deep inside I wanted to get out of my car and beat this guy down. But he was too nice and I didn't want to seem phony so I stayed nice. The kicker of all kickers was when he handed me the ticket Sir Francis Bacon said: "well, I hope you have a better night". I, in my thoughtless-need to get home-"crap I got a ticket" mindset. Said "thanks, you have a nice day to sir". Why would I tell him thanks? The guy just gave me a ticket. I am sick to my self, not for the ticket but for the fact that I told the guy thanks. After the ticket incident I did make it home without an automobile accident or an unmentionable accident. So that leads me to the question. Should I have lied to get out of the ticket? I really think that I could have gotten out of the ticket. I know that lying is one of the big ten that I've gotta keep. But Loving my neighbor is a bigger of the big ten. I know that I should do both, but knowing my nature I know that It is hard for me to not dislike a cop for giving me a ticket. That leads me to another question. Is a cop considered my neighbor? Being familiar with the story of the good Samaritan I will have to say that the cop is my neighbor. So copper, if you are reading this. I forgive you for doing your job. I forgive you for choosing a profession that makes you deal a majority of negative aspects. I forgive you for taking food off of my table by writing a pointless ticket. I hope you forgive me for wanting to punch you in the jaw really really hard and then drop elbows repeatedly into your nose. I am sure that you are a nice guy when you are not a cop.
We met our friends at this fancy eatery. Pulled into a parking lot full of people and cars that would give Jeff Foxworthy enough redneck material to retire on. We exited our car and walked into a buffet paradise. I mean we are talking an assortment of magically glazed chicken and pork treats covered in specially aged, red, sticky, sweet and sour sauce. It was like walking into Disneyland, every one was happy. Big people, bigger people and even bigger people. Little dirty kids trying their darnedest to dip the community Ice cream scoop to get the perfect scoop of cream with the most amount of bubble gum or cookie dough only to end their ice cream excavation with a big lick on the community scooper.
I started my meal off with vintage 1994 crab legs caught of the coast of Mexico with a side of Jalapeno chicken flavored feline. That didn't quite hit the spot so I went back for more of the soft-shelled crab mush. This time changing the side dish to General Cho's Hot puppy parts topped off with something that was in a shrimp shape and was called breaded shrimp but one could make the argument that it was something else. After I polished off this tasty plate my stomach gave a warning rumble telling me to stop. I pushed it away and went back for a little desert and (of course) a little more time ripened crab. By the time I finished, my stomach was no longer giving warning rumbles, it submitted itself to a slow bubbling. I knew that I must get home fast. The problem was however, this was a "going away" dinner so we had to say our goodbyes to our friends. The goodbye episode lasted for about 30 minutes in the parking lot. By this time my stomach was at a full boil and I knew that I must get home fast. As we jumped into my wife's SUV, My boy began to cry. He wanted home too. So I practically jumped on the gas. We live about ten miles out of town so I knew that I must hurry. The ride on the paved road went smoothly it was the gravel road that didn't. I normally take the gravel road quite fast so thought nothing of driving the two miles of dirt posted at 30 mph at a brisk 45. As we rounded the turn about mid-way I passed a sheriff who flipped on his lights and pulled us over. About the time that I wanted My boy to start crying to show the cop why I was speeding, my baby fell asleep. The Cop came up to the window I thought of every excuse in the book. But every excuse that I could think of that I had been successful in executing in the past would have been a lie. And as much as I dis-like cops, I didn't feel like lying. So I became the nicest man in Wyoming. The Cop in turn was also rather friendly. I tried to explain that the sleeping baby in back was crying. I almost told him of my over-excited bowels but it was too late. Before I knew it smokey was nicely handing me a 110 dollar ticket. Deep inside I wanted to get out of my car and beat this guy down. But he was too nice and I didn't want to seem phony so I stayed nice. The kicker of all kickers was when he handed me the ticket Sir Francis Bacon said: "well, I hope you have a better night". I, in my thoughtless-need to get home-"crap I got a ticket" mindset. Said "thanks, you have a nice day to sir". Why would I tell him thanks? The guy just gave me a ticket. I am sick to my self, not for the ticket but for the fact that I told the guy thanks. After the ticket incident I did make it home without an automobile accident or an unmentionable accident. So that leads me to the question. Should I have lied to get out of the ticket? I really think that I could have gotten out of the ticket. I know that lying is one of the big ten that I've gotta keep. But Loving my neighbor is a bigger of the big ten. I know that I should do both, but knowing my nature I know that It is hard for me to not dislike a cop for giving me a ticket. That leads me to another question. Is a cop considered my neighbor? Being familiar with the story of the good Samaritan I will have to say that the cop is my neighbor. So copper, if you are reading this. I forgive you for doing your job. I forgive you for choosing a profession that makes you deal a majority of negative aspects. I forgive you for taking food off of my table by writing a pointless ticket. I hope you forgive me for wanting to punch you in the jaw really really hard and then drop elbows repeatedly into your nose. I am sure that you are a nice guy when you are not a cop.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Not Much To Say
I do not have much to say today. Well I guess I always have maybe a little too much to say most of the time. I will post a pic today of the little man. He is a good boy. This pic is in a Utah Jersey. I dont particularly care for U of U. But I am the type that cheers for the team opposite of the team that whomever I am with is cheering for. How messed up is that? So if you were to ask who my favorite team is I would say whoever you hate the most. Why am I like that? Is is because I feed off of conflict? Or is it because I like to see people loose? I think it is because I like to see people humble. It helps them be better people. And I like to see people loose and I like conflict.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Final Spring pic for the day
This is a picture of the Sheridan Water Tank. Over the hill is the city of Sheridan. I will take a few pictures of the town for future blogs. I don't think that there is a place in the world that can compete with Sheridan in the spring as far as beauty goes. As I mentioned earlier, the pictures don't do the place justice. You have to smell the crisp clean morning air, you have to hear the pheasants crowing in the morning and running through ditches. You have to see the paired geese flying overhead and dropping off into ponds. You have to hear the creek bubbling and hear the cows mooing. You have to watch the spring calves running around kicking up turds. You have to see the antelope grazing. (I think it helps the appreciation factor when, for the past 6 months you have had to dig through four feet of snow and experience -30 degree temps.) But still, the winter adds to it. I wish that I could share it more with my family and friends. I'm glad though that I don't have to share it with the rest of the world.
Spring Around the Ranch
I thought I would post a few pics of where we live. All of the pics are taken on the ranch. I wish the pictures did it justice. This is the creek flooding after 2.65" its deeper than it looks. there are two 48" culverts under the crossing
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
My Boy
Well, I wrote a blog earlier today and decided that I had better save the content in my "drafts" folder because, well, I just don't think that the world is ready for it. Truth be told I think that only a select few would appreciate it and when I say select few, I mean the select few with higher than average testosterone. It was good for me to write because I came to 3 conclusions:
1. I have lost my mind.
2. I need to quit watching Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC)
3. I shouldn't drink Diet Dew before bed.
So I will leave it at that. A specific sorry to those with higher than average testosterone who would have appreciated it. I would name names of known readers that would make the high testosterone cut, but I dont want to offend those with lower levels that may think they may make the cut. If you were wondering if you make the cut, post a comment requesting your standing and I will reveal to the world why or why not you make the cut.
In conclusion, I found a pic on my computer of my little boy that has a calming effect on my crazy self so I thought I would post it. I hope this picture does the same for you.
1. I have lost my mind.
2. I need to quit watching Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC)
3. I shouldn't drink Diet Dew before bed.
So I will leave it at that. A specific sorry to those with higher than average testosterone who would have appreciated it. I would name names of known readers that would make the high testosterone cut, but I dont want to offend those with lower levels that may think they may make the cut. If you were wondering if you make the cut, post a comment requesting your standing and I will reveal to the world why or why not you make the cut.
In conclusion, I found a pic on my computer of my little boy that has a calming effect on my crazy self so I thought I would post it. I hope this picture does the same for you.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Instincts
On our way home from our honeymoon, my wife and I decided that in order for us to have complete happiness we must purchase a dog. So about midway home we stopped and picked up a newspaper just to temp ourselves with the possibility of a puppy. I had already thought long and hard and studied up on what I wanted. I new that I wanted a Black lab and it had to conform to high standards. It had to have champion blood lines, not just show lines but field trial champion lines. In fact, I had been thinking about what I wanted for about 4 years. I knew what I wanted and I knew that I would know immediately if I had the right dog or not. As we searched the newspaper we found a number of lab puppies for sale, but the only one that jumped out at me was the one that said "Black lab puppies excellent champion blood lines." That was the one for me. So we called the person in the ad. Drove to his house to look at the dogs. At first sight of the black lab puppies My wife was sold. It took her about 15 seconds to say: "lets get one now". I on the other hand needed to ask a few questions and look at the pedigrees, I mean this was to be my hunting buddy for the next 15 years I had to be careful. After looking at the pedigrees I realized what a find we had found. The lines had National field champion after champion. I was impressed and I was sold. It wasn't long before I was handing over the last of my "single life money" to purchase Angus. Labrador Retrievers were bread specifically to retrieve items. Originally out of Newfoundland they were used to retrieve fish and nets for fishermen, but as time went on they were used to retrieve game for hunters. The natural instinct to retrieve was bred deep into the blood of the Lab. The reason that I was so set on Champion field lines was because the instinct to please their master and strict obedience was proven and developed throughout the genes of the specific dog. This was proven to me with my own dog when my wife and I stopped at the first gas station on our way home with our dog. I got out with my 8 week old pup to let him stretch out a little. As I let him out of the car he would not leave my side. He just followed obediently. I thought I would play with him a little so I grabbed a pencil, let him look at it and threw it. As soon as the pencil hit the ground, Angus bounded clumsily after the pencil, picked it up and brought it back to my hand. It that pure retrieving instinct. As time went on I worked with the dog and trained him, but I found that when hunting he trained himself. In fact when the time to hunt came he performed almost flawlessly, (except for the times that I took people hunting with me that I had spent many hours bragging him up.) I am not a professional trainer, a bad trainer at that but because of the instincts of the dog, he became a good hunter. The move to Wyoming helped because he gets a lot more practice.
I titled this blog instincts because last night I noticed another instinct and that is my Wife's instinct as a mother. It amazes me to see how good she is with our little boy. It's kind of like a sixth sense. I could sleep all night and not even hear the boy and she will have been up three or four times all ready. She will wake up out of a dead sleep because she has noticed the baby's breathing is not normal and find that the baby has pulled his blanket over his head. There is all kinds of little stuff like that. It impresses the crap out of me.
When we picked each other out, it was kind of like the dog shopping but opposite. When I met her at the sporting goods store it took me about 15 seconds to say "lets get one now" Cindy was a little more careful and wanted to check out everything. I am constantly amazed at how good of a wife and mother she is. I either got lucky (or am one heck of a salesman) because I couldn't think of another person in the world that would make me as happy as I am (or think of another person patient enough to deal with me). I couldn't think of a better mother for my little boy. I know that I would have messed up that parenting thing a long time ago if she wasn't there. (Hence feeding the 4 month old honey and Diet Dew) I like it shouldn't he?
I titled this blog instincts because last night I noticed another instinct and that is my Wife's instinct as a mother. It amazes me to see how good she is with our little boy. It's kind of like a sixth sense. I could sleep all night and not even hear the boy and she will have been up three or four times all ready. She will wake up out of a dead sleep because she has noticed the baby's breathing is not normal and find that the baby has pulled his blanket over his head. There is all kinds of little stuff like that. It impresses the crap out of me.
When we picked each other out, it was kind of like the dog shopping but opposite. When I met her at the sporting goods store it took me about 15 seconds to say "lets get one now" Cindy was a little more careful and wanted to check out everything. I am constantly amazed at how good of a wife and mother she is. I either got lucky (or am one heck of a salesman) because I couldn't think of another person in the world that would make me as happy as I am (or think of another person patient enough to deal with me). I couldn't think of a better mother for my little boy. I know that I would have messed up that parenting thing a long time ago if she wasn't there. (Hence feeding the 4 month old honey and Diet Dew) I like it shouldn't he?
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
More Baggage
It is about 10:30Pm and I just got off the treadmill completing my four mile run for the day. I slept in this morning and felt a little guilty as I sat lazily around this evening, so I thought that I would ease my conscience. While I was running another terrible memory from my childhood pulled at the depths of my bowels and I do not think that I can go to bed until I get this off of my chest.
As a boy growing up I was blessed with a wonderful family. My father and mother were more than perfect. Every memorial day we would travel to a town called Antimony, Utah to pay our respects to previously fallen members of the Riddle family. Antimony was where my Father grew up, and about 20 miles away from where my mother grew up. It was and is a place where we all love to get away from the buzz of life. We would fish, hunt and just enjoy each others company. In the early years we would pull a camp trailer over and park at a camp that we called "The willows". It earned it's name because of the large willow trees that created a protective canopy over the camp. We loved the willows. My brothers and I would shoot Magpies from the trees, and climb the trees. We even hung a rope from the top of one of the trees and made a swing. This is where this small piece of baggage was born. One late morning, after riding my Honda Mini trail around (I was ten years old)I decided to jump in the two foot by two foot by five foot shower that the old yellow Prowler trailer was equipped with. It wasn't a fancy shower but it did the job. I think it was customary for my brothers and I to come out of the shower saying "I feel like a new man" because we did. Well, I came out of the shower feeling like a new man. As I got dressed I put on a pair of Rustler jeans and yellow shirt with red lettering that said "Color Country Wrestling" I loved that shirt, and I knew that I looked good, and I felt like a new man. As I exited the trailer I noticed that nobody was around so I decided to take a ride on the willow swing. It wasn't much but it did its job to pass the time and I was too clean for a motorcycle ride. As I began to swing up and down, every time I passed perpendicular to the ground I felt something hit me, it was water, I think it was water. It wasn't rain, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and this was yellow. I remember saying out loud "what the heck" and as I looked up I was horrified to see my older brother Dan urinating and laughing. Urinating all over me, all over my Color Country Wrestling shirt. I was in shock. I think that the shock kept me under the steady stream of yellow death for at least 20 more seconds. The grin on his face was unforgettable. I am sure that the look on my face was even more unforgettable. I think that he stayed up in the tree until my dad got back. I wasn't a tattle tail but this was worthy of it. I told my dad the best that I could and he just laughed. What devastation.
I don't think that my emotions will allow me to write anymore but I think that you get the point to my story.
I need to get this off of my chest:
Dan, I forgive you for being the dirty rotten tree piddler that you were. I forgive you for spraying my favorite shirt with a stinky-yellow-damning mist of urine. I forgive you for sneakily waiting patiently to find the right moment to pee on your little brother. Please forgive me for the last twenty years of me planning my revenge. I love ya bro.
"I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive but of you it is required to forgive every one"
As a boy growing up I was blessed with a wonderful family. My father and mother were more than perfect. Every memorial day we would travel to a town called Antimony, Utah to pay our respects to previously fallen members of the Riddle family. Antimony was where my Father grew up, and about 20 miles away from where my mother grew up. It was and is a place where we all love to get away from the buzz of life. We would fish, hunt and just enjoy each others company. In the early years we would pull a camp trailer over and park at a camp that we called "The willows". It earned it's name because of the large willow trees that created a protective canopy over the camp. We loved the willows. My brothers and I would shoot Magpies from the trees, and climb the trees. We even hung a rope from the top of one of the trees and made a swing. This is where this small piece of baggage was born. One late morning, after riding my Honda Mini trail around (I was ten years old)I decided to jump in the two foot by two foot by five foot shower that the old yellow Prowler trailer was equipped with. It wasn't a fancy shower but it did the job. I think it was customary for my brothers and I to come out of the shower saying "I feel like a new man" because we did. Well, I came out of the shower feeling like a new man. As I got dressed I put on a pair of Rustler jeans and yellow shirt with red lettering that said "Color Country Wrestling" I loved that shirt, and I knew that I looked good, and I felt like a new man. As I exited the trailer I noticed that nobody was around so I decided to take a ride on the willow swing. It wasn't much but it did its job to pass the time and I was too clean for a motorcycle ride. As I began to swing up and down, every time I passed perpendicular to the ground I felt something hit me, it was water, I think it was water. It wasn't rain, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and this was yellow. I remember saying out loud "what the heck" and as I looked up I was horrified to see my older brother Dan urinating and laughing. Urinating all over me, all over my Color Country Wrestling shirt. I was in shock. I think that the shock kept me under the steady stream of yellow death for at least 20 more seconds. The grin on his face was unforgettable. I am sure that the look on my face was even more unforgettable. I think that he stayed up in the tree until my dad got back. I wasn't a tattle tail but this was worthy of it. I told my dad the best that I could and he just laughed. What devastation.
I don't think that my emotions will allow me to write anymore but I think that you get the point to my story.
I need to get this off of my chest:
Dan, I forgive you for being the dirty rotten tree piddler that you were. I forgive you for spraying my favorite shirt with a stinky-yellow-damning mist of urine. I forgive you for sneakily waiting patiently to find the right moment to pee on your little brother. Please forgive me for the last twenty years of me planning my revenge. I love ya bro.
"I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive but of you it is required to forgive every one"
Baggage
I don't hold a lot of grudges, in fact I don't think that there is anyone in particular that I am mad at or really feel offended by. There are only a few things that a person can do that will summons the wrath of Dave. Admittedly in my past I haven't always been as easy going. It didn't take much for me to blow a fuse or add a person to my bad list. I am older now and a little more relaxed. Now don't get me wrong, I am not one of those people that sit around trying to remember people in my past that has done me wrong one way or another. I am grateful and hopeful that there aren't many people out there with a get-back, revenge mentality because I think that I would be in big trouble. I think that I would have my back against the wall most of the time. In fact one of my biggest regrets in life is how I treated a few people. I don't think that I was a terribly mean natured person but I know that there are a few people out there that in my weakness of youth probably inadvertently hurt and for that I am sorry.
Anyways back to my baggage. One person in particular that I thought of this morning that appears every now and then into my cloudy memory is a kid from my early early youth, in fact I don't even remember his name but I remember what he looked like, where he lived and what he was wearing the day he wronged me. Here's the story: When I was five years old I got to experience school for the first time. A part of my school memories that always stands out is riding the bus and hanging out at the bus stop. One particular day after school (remember I was in Kindergarten at the time) I got into a fight with a kid that was older than I was. I don't remember the fight very well but I am sure that it consisted of a few head locks and grass stains. If my recollection is correct I think that the older boy got the upper hand and it was over after a few minutes. I ended up walking with my older brother from the bus stop back up to the top of the culdesac to my home. No big deal right? Right. Fights when you are that age probably happen once a week. Now this is where the baggage come in. The next day after school the kid stopped me as we got off the bus and said, "hey, I'm really sorry about yesterday" and stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I remember feeling good that he was apologising so I reached out my hand and said "that's OK I'm" and WHAM! the kid belted me hard in the stomach. "OOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH". Was all that I could say as he walked off. The wind was knocked completely out of me. I remember walking home crying. I do not have any more memories of this kid. I think he moved away shortly after that. Man what a dirty thing to do. I know that I shouldn't be carrying around baggage like that or even remembering stuff like that. I don't think about this very often maybe every three years it will creep its way back into my memory. Am I messed up because I still remember this? How do I get closure on something like this. I know that he was a little kid when he did this and little kids can be mean sometimes, but man. Maybe this little blog will bring some closure.
To that kid: I forgive you for belting me with a cheap shot, probably the biggest cheap shot a seven year old could dish out. I forgive you for being the dirty rotten fighter that your were when you were seven. Please forgive me for still wanting to beat you down like a rented mule.
OK, well I feel much better. So I guess I have shared with the world my baggage.
"Shall we forgive our neighbor until seven times?" And Jesus answered "Until seventy times seven".
Anyways back to my baggage. One person in particular that I thought of this morning that appears every now and then into my cloudy memory is a kid from my early early youth, in fact I don't even remember his name but I remember what he looked like, where he lived and what he was wearing the day he wronged me. Here's the story: When I was five years old I got to experience school for the first time. A part of my school memories that always stands out is riding the bus and hanging out at the bus stop. One particular day after school (remember I was in Kindergarten at the time) I got into a fight with a kid that was older than I was. I don't remember the fight very well but I am sure that it consisted of a few head locks and grass stains. If my recollection is correct I think that the older boy got the upper hand and it was over after a few minutes. I ended up walking with my older brother from the bus stop back up to the top of the culdesac to my home. No big deal right? Right. Fights when you are that age probably happen once a week. Now this is where the baggage come in. The next day after school the kid stopped me as we got off the bus and said, "hey, I'm really sorry about yesterday" and stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I remember feeling good that he was apologising so I reached out my hand and said "that's OK I'm" and WHAM! the kid belted me hard in the stomach. "OOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH". Was all that I could say as he walked off. The wind was knocked completely out of me. I remember walking home crying. I do not have any more memories of this kid. I think he moved away shortly after that. Man what a dirty thing to do. I know that I shouldn't be carrying around baggage like that or even remembering stuff like that. I don't think about this very often maybe every three years it will creep its way back into my memory. Am I messed up because I still remember this? How do I get closure on something like this. I know that he was a little kid when he did this and little kids can be mean sometimes, but man. Maybe this little blog will bring some closure.
To that kid: I forgive you for belting me with a cheap shot, probably the biggest cheap shot a seven year old could dish out. I forgive you for being the dirty rotten fighter that your were when you were seven. Please forgive me for still wanting to beat you down like a rented mule.
OK, well I feel much better. So I guess I have shared with the world my baggage.
"Shall we forgive our neighbor until seven times?" And Jesus answered "Until seventy times seven".
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