When Worlds Collide

Some Comparisons Are Just Not Meant To Be Made...

OK, so I'm reading this... um... learned treatise on the intricate details of the male/female conjunctional dynamic, when the distaff collaborator refers to the man's hydraulics as a "gigantic swipe".

Well, that's a novel euphemism for the old John Thomas...

Still, you take things in stride and move along.

Much later, you find yourself flipping through TV channels, and pause at a kiddie cartoon channel just in time for Dora the Explorer to say...

"Swiper!  Quit Swiping!!"

That sort of thing will stick in your head, folks.  And not in a good way...

Waltzing Matilda?

If It Exists, It's On eBay...

So, I bought a kangaroo today.  Not just any kangaroo, either.  A boxing kangaroo!

Alas, it will not be waltzing around a ring.  Just sitting.

It's one of those ceramic desk caddies, meant for holding your pocket change, watch and wallet.  If you saw the movie 'Pulp Fiction', you'll remember the watch hanging on the kangaroo as a plot point that led to the infamous basement scene.

My grandfather had one on his nightstand.  I can recall it sitting there for years & years.  After Grandma went to the rest home, the kangaroo went to my father, but it fell off a shelf and broke several years ago.

So, this will be a replacement.  I have no idea if Dad enjoyed having the kangaroo around or not, but I looked forward to seeing his reaction when Xmas rolls around!

Another Year Of Aimless Bloggery!

Eight Is Not Enough

Yes, indeed, fiends and nailers!  8 years ago this week, Baboon Pirates sprang into existence, and has been a glorious suckhole of productivity on the IntarWebs ever since!

This past year was a tough one.  My productivity fell off, as did my list of daily visitors.  Facebook bears some blame, but I'm not being the Kr8TiV3 whizkid I was 4 years ago, either.

Still, it's another year, another shot at cranking out the occasional bit of bawdy doggerel or posting some horrible image that has y'all scrambling for the eyebleach.  That sort of thing NEVER gets old!!

Thanks for dropping by, and I hope to hear from you in the coming year!

El Capitan

Facebook Strikes Again

Dodging Bullets Decades Later

How does that line go?  'Better to remain silent and be thought of as a slackjawed yokel rather than post something on Facebook and confirm it to the world??'

Man, this Facebook post just depressed me, skeeved me out, and made me thank my lucky stars all in one post.

The younger sister of one of my school friends sent me a friend request on Facebook some time back.  At the time, I was friending everybody, and not applying much thought to who really needed to remain in the past.  Still, she was a fetching young thing back in the 80's, and I'd devoted some time pondering the prospect of dating her.

I'm sooooo glad that never happened...

Since OK'ing the friend request, my FB newsfeed has been polluted by frequent posts from this gal, griping about her minimum wage job, posting unflattering self-shots from her phone-cam, and bleating confessions of truuuue loooove to her current boyfriend.

The trailer-trash is strong in this one, Obi Wan...

Then, this pic shows up:

As the caption states "Daughter - 7 mos pregnant with grandchild #3."  So, the family tradition is alive and well.  Marry young, divorce often, and squeeze out a shitload of kids.

Posing in a wife-beater with a cheap tattoo whilst sitting outside a trailer just adds so much ambiance and class...

What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits

You Can't Argue With A Sick Mind

OK, I'm mix & matching 70's album titles to make some kinda half-assed metaphor for my current mindset.

Read further at your own peril, and the smoker you drink, the player you get...

****************

 

OK, that's one electrode for the balzac, another for the taint.  Shouldn't the other two be more streamlined for better prostate access??

Mmmmm... loves me some fresh & tender chicken nuggets!

The things you learn on the Internet...

So, I'm watching 'MythBusters', and the always-yummy Kari Byron is involved in a balloon experiment.  While blowing up several dozen of the long, thin balloons usually used for animal sculpture, she suddenly (and inexplicably...) inserts several inches of turgid balloon into her mouth and commences to some serious suction.

At that point, I renamed the show to 'MythBust-A-Nutters', and went looking for proof I'd seen what I'd seen.

Here's proof:

F%$#*ng Typical...

BOHICA!  RUTA!!!!

So, this morning is my highly anticipated consulting gig with Another Man.  Usually, when you go to work for The Man, you have to do things solely for The Man.

But... if The Man can get some good press out of the deal, or maybe trade for Players To Be Named Later, us peons can occasionally travel off the reservation and see how life in other gulags compares to our own.

So, I've set up the meet & greet at one of The Man's facilities.  Got the email confirmation from the site manager for the conference room, met with him last week to discuss a facility tour and the usual VIP handjob services.  My shit's wired tight.

Nevertheless, I show up 40 minutes early, just in case.

Whereupon I discover that the facility manager is out of town, there's no room at the inn, and who the fuck are you to be showing up at the last minute demanding a room??

This, friends and neighbors, is why I leave my edged weapons at the house.  Otherwise, I'd have an office wall full of scalps.

I didn't come off looking like a total schmuck, 'cause I do know my business, but I'm thinking the 2nd time they asked us to switch rooms, (From a frigid staff lounge to a small room filled with art supplies) my guests lost patience and decided to end the day early.

Well, two hours to go, and I can go home and commence drinking.  Back in my tech support days, I'd have a bottle in my desk drawer and would have begun two hours previously...

Of Human Bondage

This Was Not In The Boy Scout Handbook!

There are certain knots that can appear as if by magic.

The usual suspects usually involve garden hoses, earbud headphones and Xmas lights, but you just never know when one will spring into existence.

In rare circumstances, as I just discovered, it can involve your very own crotch.

This knot appeared early in the AM after stumbling to the bathroom in a sleepy fog.  The usual routine of dropping the tighty-whiteys came to a screeching halt, with the leg elastic somehow getting entangled in the undercarriage.  The resulting tug to pull it free only tightened things up, and an effort to "go with the flow" and avoid forcible removal of body parts resulted in almost a deep-knee bend and a teabagging of the toilet bowl.

Luckily, if you get loose of the knot, you get to name it.

I dub this bastard the Hanes Crotchable Come-Along.

Elevator Tag

Games People Play In Tall Buildings

Well, this probably won't end well...

Had a meeting at 10 AM, and I never found it.  For some reason I thought it was on the 22nd floor.  I was wrong.

So, up and down the floors, looking for this elusive conference room.

Went to every floor *except* the correct one.

The Word of the Day is: TWENTY!!!
(El Cap is showered with ping pong balls by an ecstatic moose)

Now, I'm dizzy 'cause my inner ear is in overdrive from all the up & down, and I'm too late to give a damn.

Screw 'em.  It's Friday.

Ostrich Weekend

Grump, Grump, Grump...

Well, any more weekends like the past one, and I'll have to start sending dues to the Professional Hermit Association.

I got up on Friday, went to an event for The Man in the morning, and completely fell into a funk before it was over.  Sat outside the facility for an hour after it was over, but couldn't manage to find the gumption to go into the office for the rest of the day.  So, I schlepped it to the house where I remained until this morning.   Good thing there's pizza delivery, or I'd have lived on tapwater and stale saltines...

I'm a little bit PO'ed at myself for doing it, but I was just feeling no desire to associate with anyone, so I stuck my head in the sand for 2.5 days.  Skipped out on my monthly Poker Night up at the Cisco Kid's, and blew off my usual Sunday NFL & Cigars over at Cigar Towne.

A good-sized chunk o' funk of it was being completely bummed out by Walrilla's passing last week.  I knew he was in poor health, but for Pete's sake he was only 47!  It's just monumentally unfair that so many douchebags survive and thrive into old age, and a hardworking family man like Donny gets called up to the Majors at so young an age.

Then, of course, I wondered how much was feeling bad about Donny, and how much was lamenting my own declining health and looming mortality.  I mean, given half a chance I'll throw a pity party as opposed to actually grieving someone else.

*Sigh*    I seem to be marginally better today.  I'm actually getting a few things done, including a blogpost, so that's something.

Hope your weekend was better than mine!

Probably The Same Guy...

Tales From Long, Long Ago

I'm over at Tam's place (one of my daily reads, and ought to be one of yours, too...) and I read her post about a kid in Indianapolis allegedly getting almost snatched off the street by a predatory goon.

Boy, that'll take you back.

See, the exact same thing happened to me, also in Indianapolis, over 35 years ago.

Maybe.  I'm still unclear on the exact sequence of events.

Lemme 'splain:

Long story short, Dad got transferred from Dallas, TX to IndyPolis, IN in 1976 where we endured three years of frozen hell until Mom griped enough for him to find a job down in Houston.

While up there, we were kind of scraping by.  Mom wasn't working, Dad took the only car to work everyday, and that left me to schlep myself to school via shank's mare.  Fortunately, Public School #77 was barely three blocks away.  This was OK in spring & summer, but kind of a PITA for a skinny Texas kid when the snow piled up.

Here's the neighborhood:
Red Circle - My House
Green Circle - Mertz House
Yellow Circle - Stewart House
Blue Circle - Weinberg House
Purple Circle - "Grandpa" the Crossing Guard
Orange Circle - Front Door of PS #77

(Click pic to embiggenate)
Now, I honestly can't remember if this all happened in 3rd or 4th grade.  I'm betting it was 4th grade, 'cause I knew 99% of the kids in the neighborhood, and knew that in all the dotted houses, they all had stay-at-home Moms, just like I did.  Hell, I was in those houses as often as I was in my own.

In addition, "Grandpa", the septuagenarian school crossing guard that always accused us kids of "playin' mumble-peg!" was a constant fixture at Michigan & Arlington Ave, and would have been in shouting distance for the entire walk.

It's the middle of winter.  I'm on Michigan St., trudging through fresh-fallen snow that's up past my knees, and not paying attention to anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, and not slipping off the sidewalk.  I can hear the Emery girls (Heather & Holly) chatting and giggling about half a block behind me, and there's a group of 2-3 kids about the same distance in front of me.

Somewhere along the stretch by the Stewart house, I can recall a beat-to-shit white van come chugging up the street.  Due to the plowed slush and ice chunks in the gutters, it's well out towards the middle of the street.  I don't pay attention until I hear someone yelling.

Keep in mind I've got this enormous fur-hooded anorak on, with a stocking cap pulled down over my ears under that.  After another yell, I remember looking up and seeing some guy, maybe in his mid-20's, squatting in the open side door of the van.

I suppose he was yelling something at me, but I didn't hear it.  I remember turning to look and saying "What?" or something to that effect, and the guy said something again, but for the second time I missed it.  About the time I got my hood down, the van accelerated away, the door slammed shut, and it made a turn at the corner and was gone.

As God is my witness, to this day I have no idea what the guy said.  I completely missed it.  So, I finished the walk as usual, and had forgotten about the entire deal by the time my butt hit the school desk.

Third period, however, I was pulled out of class and marched down to the principal's office and given the 3rd degree by a herd of office staff.

"Who was in the van?  Did they try to kidnap you??  Did you realize you were almost snatched!!  Did you know them?  What did they ask you?  Did they touch you?" and on & on & on.

I'm sitting there thinking "What... The... Fuck... is *WRONG* with you people???" Nothing like that happened!  I don't even think that did happen!  And how did you know about it at all??

About that time Mom shows up, as do the Indy Police, and it's like being in a squawking hen convention. I was as perplexed as I've ever been in my life.

It seems that either the Emery girls or that other group of kids may have heard what the guy in the van was yelling, and it got deciphered as "Get in the van so we may offer you candy but we're gonna molest you and leave your corpse in the park".

This person told that person, that person told that person, someone eventually told a teacher, and it went up the chain lickety-split, apparently growing in detail with each telling.

Y'know, for all I know the guy was asking directions to the gas station.  Or he was telling me I had a nice tight ass.  (I did, way back then...)  I just don't recall.

I doubt anything would have come of it.  By that age, we were pretty well indoctrinated with the "Don't get into cars with strangers" message.

But ya never know...  Perhaps if it wasn't for all those kids within sight, I might now be a pile of moldering bones on the bottom of Eagle Creek reservoir.

Hug your kids, folks.  Teach 'em well.  Arm 'em to the teeth.

'Cause, really, ya just never know...

Comments Are Back!

I HAD TO TOUCH ACTUAL CODE!! UNCLEAN!!!

OK, the ability to leave comments appears to have been restored.

Thanks to Harvey at Bad Example for showing the way!

The Door Slams Shut

Gloom, Despair & Agony On Me! Deep Dark Depression, Excessive Misery!

Well, October is shaping up to be a real kidneystone of a month...

Hit #1 - No West Houston Smoke & Powder Crawl this year.   I've done the crawl for many years now, quite often joined by the Cisco Kid and the Layabout Sailor.  For a variety of reasons, the organizer pulled the plug this year.  So, if I want to smoke cigars whilst blasting at targets, I'll have to do it on my own.

Hit #2 - I'm informed today that one of my co-workers will be taking a leave of absence for the next two months.  I have no idea what's going on, but this afternoon he asked me to help him research Do Not Resuscitate orders and requirements for a Texas Last Will & Testament.  I'm not feeling good about this state of affairs, to say the least...

We're already understaffed by two people, and the one replacement we've been approved for is still being slowly digested through The Man's hiring process, and won't be up to speed until late November at the earliest.  Assuming they don't split after 2 weeks like the last one.

We've thinned out our course offerings and pushed a couple of projects into 2013, but even spreading the load, we're all looking at adding 6-8 hours per week just to keep up.

Hit #3 - Last week, the director of The Man's HR department assigned me to a workgroup that'll be flogging away on a project until the end of the year.  Ordinarily, I'd welcome any opportunity to crush the competition cooperate with my co-workers, but being short-staffed is already grinding away at any extra time I might have had.

I'm desperate to take a solid two weeks off, but I just don't see that happening until January at the earliest, and I'm not sure I can go that long without blowing a cranial artery.

Hit #4 - This started out as a good thing, but as time goes on, it's becoming more & more of a drain on my time & energy.

After literally years of lobbying, I managed to get approval to get a seat in one of The Man's management accreditation programs.  It's a one day a week gig from July to mid-November.  It's a huge time-suck, but you get face time with dozens of The Man's Grand Nabobs and Exalted Poo-bahs.  If you're planning on moving up the food chain, this program is a prerequisite.

Since I don't actually have any direct reports, it was a miracle I made the cut.  I successfully argued my network of indirect reports over 23 departments was actually 3 or 4 times the typical number of employees a supervisor is responsible for.

At any rate, I can't fuck this up, and I can't really miss any sessions.

Adding to the fun is a couple of guest speaking gigs in October & November, and a consulting gig with a local community college, and I'm just about up to my earlobes in work.

So, here's the bad news.  I'm too old and arthritic to drive cross country without a day or two on either side to recover.  I won't fly.  (Buying two seats and getting cavity searched by the TSA is not for me...)
I just can't take off enough time to get to Tennessee and back this year.

So, the bottom line is that El Capitan will NOT be at the Hysterics at Eric's this year, and I am not happy about it.

I'm reminded of that scene in John Wayne's 'The Cowboys', where Mr. Nightlinger asks the caravan of "soiled doves" to not proposition the young drovers.  When the Madam asks if he would like to sample the wares, he replies:

"Well, I have the inclination, the maturity, and the wherewithal... but unfortunately, I don't have the time..."