December 11, 2003
This has been an absolutely spectacular auction, magnitudes over what I expected. I need to think up something special and Christmasy to use the proceeds on as I hadn't thought of anything bigger than candy canes and spekulaas.
Any ideas? We've got one Lovely Wife, 3 rugrats from 1 year old to 4 years old and one cow sucker (that's me) to be invovled in the festivity.
UPDATE: The winner is Robert from XSet, who got in a last bid virtually under the wire to sneak past Sue. All's fair in love and auctions, they say.
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December 09, 2003
Looking at the bidders I see some I recognize and a bunch I don't. We've got Clancy, Rob and Sue among the 9 bidders currently competing for my affections. Nah, that's not right. Y'all already have my affections. But they are competing for some genuine cheerful wishes and feature placement in a custom crafted story. Who couldn't use cheerful wishes?
By the way, if you are a member of the clueless masses or know somebody who is you can solve your problems right here.
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December 08, 2003
There's real value in this auction, you know. The custom story by a fantastic and humble author has to be worth a quarter all by itself.
Now go and bid on my auction or I will pout like a little bitch.
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December 03, 2003
Answers in the extended section. more...
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December 01, 2003
Spread the word!
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November 28, 2003
Can you imagine my trepidation? A confirmed cranophobe having to taste cran sauce that was made by a class of 4 year olds? Oh, dear.
But it wasn't bad. In fact it was quite good. Really good. What a difference between homemade with real fruit and that gelatinous mass I have been exposed to for my first 34 years. I actually ate it and enjoyed it.
I have a strong suspicion that if we were still in Buffalo, Bear's class would not have made their own cranberry sauce. 2 more points for Georgia.
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November 24, 2003
I finally exposed myself to her over the weekend. No, not that way - I do that on a hourly regular basis. I mean I finally gave up on trying to get the blog exactly the way I wanted it before inviting her in. Being anal retentive as I am I realized that I could be facing retirement before I actually get it "just right". And besides, if I can't show some warts to my wife who can I show them to? And more importantly, would that person pay me anything for a wart showing?
Anyway, she loves the blog and my near godliness has been reinforced in her eyes. Hopefully she'll be a regular reader and commenter. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get her to start her own weblog eventually.
Everyboy say "hi" now and welcome my sweet baby to the wide world of weblogging.
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November 21, 2003
To make sure that I don't forget any of these thought streams before I've had a chance to explore them I leave myself notes. I have a post-it note dispenser on my desk at home. At work I have a steno pad. There's a dry erase board on my refrigerator. I've got an Ideas.txt file on my desktop. I leave notes all over, like rabbit droppings. Hey, good analogy there - we'll call them "thought nuggets".
The dry erase board gave me a pause this morning. I haven't cleaned the ideas off of it in a while so it has accumulated a little pile of nuggets. I had also used it to put down some recipe parts while I was cooking. The end result is peculiar to say the least:
Solar powered kids
325 degrees
10 to 12 minutes
If they aren't screaming, you're not doing it right.
Sounds like a recipe out of The Hansel & Grettle Cookbook. I better get that cleared off before Mom flies down. Sheesh.
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November 20, 2003
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November 19, 2003
Makes me glad that I don't have a phone from a certain large Swedish telecomunications company.
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07:24 AM
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November 18, 2003
Midgets Need To Get Their Heads Out of Their Asses
I saw a special presentation about an operation that little people(TM) can undergo in order to get taller. It involves implanting an external metal brace into the long bones of the legs. The bones are broken and separated. The bracing is then continuously lengthened. The healing process of the broken bones causes them to grow towards each other. As the gap of the break is consistently maintained the effect is a gradual lengthening of the legs.
It's painful. It takes a long time. It's good for only a couple of inches. There are many post-procedure problems including weakened bones, arthritis, bone and muscle pain. Sense of balance is seriously compromised and the patient is clumsy and awkward for quite some time.
One of the patients who was interviewed told of all of these problems but dismissed them as negligible. You see, he can now do things like drive an unmodified car. He can ride on a roller coaster. He uses the cupboards at his apartment. In fact his only regret about having the procedure is that he is now an outcast from his community. You see, those jokes on Seinfeld about little people(tm) "heightening" weren't jokes. It really is viewed as a serious breach of etiquette to wear tall shoes or otherwise compensate for (lack of) height. Having this operation makes a little person an outcast from the little person community.
This leads to an obvious question which I will direct to the little community at large:
How do you get such an oversized head so firmly implanted in your anal sphincter? Come the fuck on! It's a birth defect. It is not normal to be a midget/dwarf/little fellow. It is neither amoral or foolish for somebody with a birth defect to use devices and procedures to overcome that defect. Should somebody born with one arm forgo a prosthetic one? If I had a procedure that cured Downs Syndrome do you think that all of the Downs' afflicted out there would rally to attack a person who went through that procedure because they wanted to be normal?
YOU ARE NOT NORMAL. Get it through your skulls. I'm not saying that you should be ashamed of being small. I'm saying that you shouldn't be carrying around a chip on your vertically challenged shoulder because of it. It's a birth defect, a freak happening of nature, one of the more common of literally thousands of documented and understood genetic mishaps. It should not be either a badge of honor or a Sysephean burden.
If you have a chance to correct it then do so! And if you are so wrapped up in a communal pity party that you can't bear the thought of fixing what's wrong with you then at least have the fucking courtesy to support somebody with the courage to do so himself. The way that guy was treated, the exposure of the intollerance and antagonism in the little community, was sickening. He showed bravery and courage, going through a painful procedure in order to make his life better, already knowing that his friends would turn on him. He didn't deserve the way he was treated and to be quite frank those "friends" certainly didn't deserve him.
Fire away.
UPDATE: I wrote this quite a while ago and never posted it. Generally I try not to post things when I'm pissed about the subject. A decent rant is fine but when I'm very irritated I tend to get more insulting than descriptive so a "Jim is pissed" post generally won't do anything constructive. I figured that I would let it sit and revisit it, edit it in a calm voice and then post it. It ended up getting lost and forgotten until yesterday. I looked it over with the intent of editing out the more inflammatory insults and profanity but have decided to present it as-is instead. It's not as overwhelmingly antagonistic as I thought when I first wrote it and the anger the subject raised in me back then has been fairly well rekindled by rereading it.
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November 17, 2003
Oh, wait. I do have something quick to share. Captain Corelli's Mandolin was a decent movie destroyed by two things. The first was Nicolas Cage. Sorry, but he can never ever play a romantic lead. No matter what the character is supposed to portray you will never escape the image of Cage in Raising Arizona. And what was with that accent? He either got it from an intense one week session with a voice coach in the Bronx or from watching too many Olive Garden commercials. The second problem was the normally spectacular John Hurt who was almost but not quite completely unlike Roddy McDowell a Greek provincial doctor.
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November 14, 2003
There is absolutely no guarantee that it is gas that you will pass. Immodium is your friend. No, more than that, it is your lifeline.
Given my abhorrence of the crappers here at work and my current state of being on antibiotics I am trapped in my own peculiar little hell. Any time I have the bowel urge I must assume that bad things are happening, no matter how much it feels like plain old gas. This means that any time I wish to feel gastric comfort I have to truck into the ol' shitter, whip out a paper ass gasget and alight upon the ceramic throne.
This is all because of the Paris Hilton gag, isn't it God?
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I've got a similar story. After the worst breakup of my life I was in very sorry shape. I won't get into the gory details but it was so bad that Captain Responsibility (that's me) lost his license for driving drunk during this period. I started replacing food with alcohol and things were deteriorating rapidly. Get up in the morning, have a beer, go to work, come home, drink until sleep comes. Basically just plodding on though a semblance of my former life through inertia and not having any clue what else to do.
One day after work I flipped on the radio, grabbed a beer and sat down to start drinking. The song that was playing was "No woman no cry" by Bob Marley, a song I'd heard many, many times before but never really listened to. This time I heard it and listened to the lyrics, the drum, Bob's voice. I got it. Bob was telling me "Everything's gonna be alright". I dug through my CD's, got out Legend and played that song in a loop the rest of the night.
And I stopped drinking like an ass. I finished that open beer of course, I'm an alconomist after all. But I ordered a pizza for dinner instead of finishing off the case. I still remember that pizza, it was the fucking best tasting pizza I'd ever had in my life. First actual food I'd eaten in I don't know how long.
And I called my Mom. I basically hadn't spoken with anybody in weeks. They'd called but I'm an expert in avoidance. I also have a black belt in not-being-part-of-the-conversation-when-you-think-we-are-conversing-itsu. I hadn't spoken with Mom in even longer. I love her like you wouldn't believe but she's a nut and can be very trying to speak with. I'd been avoiding her for a while.
I called a bunch of other people too. My best friend E, who had been trying to get me out of the house for weeks. Made dinner arangements for later in the week with him. I called Doppel-G (he was down in Georgia by this time). I think he knew something wierd was going on but he didn't press, just talked about everyday stuff for a while. I think I even tried to call Lil Bro but I can't remember for sure.
After that night I put my life back together. Very quickly I might add so I guess I had caught it in time before I hit the big cusp. Basically all I had to do was get back into civilization, turn on the afterburners at work for a while to catch up and (most importantly) stop getting drunk every night.
Now whenever I hear that song and it gets to the "Everything's gonna be alright" part I get a tickle in the back of my throat, my eyes water and I have to fight hard not to cry. And sometimes, when I need it, I play that song and I don't fight the tears.
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November 13, 2003
Much thanks to all of the people who supported me and argued on my behalf. Especially Ilyka, who was like a rabid bull terrier today. I can't express how much I appreciate your help.
Tomorrow - good stuff. I promise.
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November 12, 2003
That was a personal call based on the nature of your post. I do apologize if you feel slighted, but it was just my preference not to add that one particular post.-Max
The post I submitted was The Somnolence of Clouds. This is my erotic vignette from a few days ago. It was well received in comments and email.
Do I feel slighted at being censored? Yeah, I do. It's pretty easy to just note that the post is erotic fiction in the Carnival description. That's the actual description I submitted it with, after all.
People who want to go there do so. People who don't, don't. Same as somebody sick of the metrosexual meme wouldn't go to Andrew's post based on the description that was put with his link.
Christianity is a thought crime. That's an okay topic. The Pussified Toit thing? Also okay. Bush, France, Iraq. All okay.
The only censored item is an erotic vignette. A piece of tittilating fiction. War, death, politics, sexuality, religion are all valid but my well written story is not.
I'm more than slighted. I'm pissed.
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11:30 PM
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You cannot have something that is both NEW and IMPROVED.
[/rant]
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November 11, 2003
I did not know until this afternoon that you were a veteran and just wanted to pass along my thanks for having served.
That's the President of my company, of course, not Dubya.
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November 07, 2003
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November 06, 2003
Thank you for your support and participation. I thank you, Munuviana thanks you, and most importantly Doppel-G thanks you.
Final poll results were:
Moondoggie (22)
Doppel-G (26)
G-Whiz (6)
G-Muse (4)
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