From the Department of...

Things That Don't Make A Fucking Bit Of Sense

Maybe it's my age. Maybe I'm just gettin old. Maybe I'm gettin Alzheimer's.

But it seems like there's an over-abundance of things that just simply don't make sense to me.

First, there's

this

. It's about the little three year old UK girl that got snatched while her family was vacationing in Portugal.

Um....the parents left the little girl and her twin sister alone in their room at the resort while they went to eat at the resort's restaurant....that was about a hundred yards away.

Granted, a hundred yards isn't a lot. But it's too damn far to leave TWO THREE YEAR OLD KIDS UNATTENDED! The dad had the balls to say the room was "within their sight". Yea. Someone managed to get in the room, grab the toddler and get back out again without anyone seein 'em. So just who the hell was watchin?

And the parents are gettin nothin but sympathy. I've got all the sympathy in the world for that little girl. But for those parents? Uh, nope. Sorry. Can't muster up a bit.

And then there's

this

little gem.

The immigration service yesterday proposed big increases in the fees to apply for immigrant and work visas and for naturalized citizenship, but some lawmakers said it is time for taxpayers to foot part of the bill to ease the cost on potential immigrants.

Let's see, now.

Everyone's bitchin about illegal immigrants. So let's raise the cost of becoming a legal immigrant, thereby making it much harder to do the "right" thing...and become legal.

Uh huh.

Oh, OH! Then "some lawmakers" think WE should foot part of the bill to ease the cost on potential immigrants."

And just who do these genius lawmakers think is footin the damn bill NOW? The Immigrant Fairy?

I dunno.

I think I'm gonna quit watchin the news. It makes me spew green pea soup whilst my head spins around.

Makes a damn mess...

So, I went to a Memorial Day parade

Kinda quiet, though. No marching bands. No flags. No baton twirlers.



I think maybe this guy was the Grand Marshall.



Or maybe he was just lost.

Vewwwy qwiet Memorial weekend here. Ziggy had to work Saturday night, so he slept away most of Saturday and Sunday. This third shift shit is for the birds...I feel so bad for him.

Even the "Summer Campers" were quiet. A lot quieter than I expected...especially for being right across the highway from 'em. I heard on the news that there were only 19 drug busts. I suppose the rainy weather had somethin to do with there only being 19.

But, gawd bless 'em...what were those 19 thinkin? I mean, they hadda know there'd be undercover cops, right? C'mon...it's a rock concert. And there were about 10,000 kids there. I'm afraid the days of Woodstock are over, kiddies. Get a clue. Hell, anywhere there are 10,000 people...especially young people...jammed into one place, there's gonna be cops all over. Duh?

I ran to the grocery store yesterday and it wasn't bad, at all. Lotsa younguns, dressed really funky, buyin lotsa booze. In fact, most of the girls were dressed pretty much like I dressed...back in the 60's...when there were still dinosaurs.

Didn't see a hairy armpit in the bunch, though.

And, no. I wasn't that much of a hippie.

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

One of my favorite activities here at the beach house on the moon has become 'beachcombing'. I've started collecting some really pretty little white shells...almost like miniature conch shells. All swirly. I've got Ziggy hooked on the beachcombin thing, too, so now, every time he goes for a walk along the beach, he's always on the lookout for those little shells for me or other interesting schtuff. This morning, he came back with this...



It's just a bit over three inches long and kind of a bluish/gray color.

Now, I've lived around the river for a lotta years. I've seen all kinds of crawdaddies. But I've never seen one with a claw this big. So I did a little Googlin and came up with

Orconectes rusticus

. The photo looks very similar to the claw....except that the site says they only grow up to 4 inches long...the whole thing. If that was the case, then their claws would only be about an inch or so long, right?

So, anyone got any ideas on what this might be?

I suffer from 'techno-tardation'...

...is there a cure?

I think I need to see if Jerry Lewis is available for a telethon.

Since we've moved here and gotten high speed internet...which is awesome...mostly...I've had a couple of niggling little problems that I can't figure out.

The main problem, is that I can't access my gmail. Well, I can. But only the 'html' version. Which means that there's no friggin scroll bar, so if you send me anything longer than a short note, I can't get to it. And if you attach photos...fuggaboudid.
There's also no way to delete all the spam I get without checking each little box, individually. There's no "delete all" button. It's like a bare bones version of gmail.

Ziggy suggested disabling the firewall that came with the new service we have. I did that, but it didn't fix it.

Because I can't access my gmail properly, (but I think I hafta keep it...just so it won't screw up my Google access) I want to change my personal email address, using this service (Mediacom). There's no problem there...I did manage to get one set up...but for the life of me, I cannot remember how to do the html code to put a "email me" button on my template. And I can't find the info anywhere.

Ya know, come to think of it, since we've switched services, I've had several problems with Google, in general. The email thing. And when I try to post to the blog, some of the buttons are "invisible"...there there, but I can't see 'em. I just hafta click in the general location where I think the "post" button is. When I scroll over the area, I get a little message at the bottom that says "javascript:void (0)".

Maybe Google and/or Javascript and Mediacom don't play well together?

Anywho, anybody wanna help an old techno-tard out?

This is my cat

This is my cat on drugs.

Stewie took a one way trip to eunuch-dom yesterday. Bless him little heart. He was still dopey when we brought him home. I alternated between laughing and crying...just watchin the poor little feller tryin to walk was hysterical.

He'd sit up, slowly start listing to one side or another, then fall over and lie there a while. Pretty soon, he'd get up and try it again...only to nod off, list to the other side...and fall over again. He could barely stagger, yet he tried to jump up onto the kitchen counter. He snagged a hold on the edge, hung there a minute, and before I could jump up and catch him, fell to the floor...and just laid there.

Cats don't always land on their feet.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to be in a bit of pain. Other than psychic, I mean.

I wonder if he knows his balls are gone?

Yea. She did it "to help others"

So, a

60 year old woman gave birth to twins

Tuesday...and she says she did it "to help others".

I caught her interview this morning on the news. She went on to blather about how this is such a wonderful thing...being the mistress of your own ovaries, or some such drivel. And how she's "helping" other women.

Bull. Shit. She's obviously been pulled and nipped and tucked six ways to Sunday. Having a baby...let alone two...at her age is just another desperate, selfish, misguided attempt to stay young.

My mother was nearly forty when she had me. My dad was 44. They'd been married for eighteen years. To say I was a suprise is an understatement. I didn't have parents. I grew up with grandparents.

I don't care how well preserved that couple is...those twins will grow up with great-grandparents. If they're very lucky, their parents will live to see them through their teenage years...but not much, if any, beyond. It's hard enough to lose your parents when you're in your 30's or 40's, let alone as a teenager.

Ah well. C'est la vie, I guess. Better them than me.

Odds and ends....beeeecauuuuse?

Say it with me....all my ends are odd.

Yea, yea.

So, believe it or not, I wasn't hung over Sunday. Fortunately, I stopped drinkin fairly early. Unfortunately, it wasn't before I was pretty much shit-faced. In fact, I read Lolly yesterday morning and I wondered, "Now, who in the hell posted that?"
I did manage to get the steaks cooked for our guests, though. Pretty well, too. After all...I am the hostess wit' da mostest, right?
Eating, then having coffee after helped the shit-faced-ness immensely. I'm sure it made the ole hangover much less painful, too.
*****************

So what are you doing for Memorial weekend? Us? We're having ten thousand (quite possibly, fifteen thousand) or so of our

closest friends

over.

WTF?? I'd heard of Summer Camp before, of course. But I had no idea it was as big as it is. Hell, that's like three times the size of the whole town, I think. And....uh....it's all happening...um...right across the friggin highway from us. Mmmhmmm.

Rumor has it that it gets pretty wild...as in shades of "Woodstock". Gawd. I remember wanting to go to Woodstock sooooooo bad. If I were 20 years younger, I'd be a Summer Camper.

But I'm not. So I'll just sit here and bitch about the noise, the inconvenience, the traffic...etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...like the old fart I am. (sigh) The locals tell me that the campers descend on the one and only grocery store like a plague of locusts, so if we want something decent to fix on the grill this weekend, I'd better go tomorrow.
*****************

Speaking of tomorrow, Mr. Surly, aka Stuart, has an appointment with the local nuterologist. I warned him and warned him. If he didn't behave, I'd send him to eunuch school. He peed on my brand new bathroom rug the other day, so his balls' days are numbered....and their number is up, honey.

Lick 'em while ya got 'em, Stewie...lick 'em while ya got 'em.
*****************

And finally, under the heading of "Things Ya See When Ya Don't Have a Camera"...

Remember a while back, I was tellin about seein a guy up on Main Street, ridin a bicycle wearing a bright yellow outfit, complete with matching "coolie hat"? Well, today while driving down Main, right around Campustown, I saw a guy on a bike. He had regular clothes on. But he had a great big, white plastic goose strapped to the front of his bike.

Gotta be the same guy, right? Surely there can't be two bicycle-ridin whackjobs in the same neighborhood...right?

I know. Don't call me "Shirley".

Blogging while inebriated

Ok, I'm just, plain drunk. I havent' had anything to drink in probably 2 months, so it doesnt' take much.

I'm feelin soooooooooooooo good.

I bought some of that Smirnoff "Cosmopolitan" stuff at WalMart. And it's good. Ok, it'd be better with a little more cranberrry juice in it. But that can be remedied.

I thought it'd be reallly cool to sit out on the deck and sip Cosmopolitans. Ya know? Be....well..."cosmopolitan". Uh huh.

It probably would. Exce[t that we're ex[ectin compamy and I hafta fix some steaks on the grill. Hmmmmmm..............

I hope they like their steaks rarrrrrrre.

Ya know what? If they don't like their steaks rare....fuck 'em. That's the way I like 'em.

Gawd. I loooooooove where we are. And I looooooooove Mediacom's music stations.

Shirley, Shirley, bo burly. Banana fana fo firley. Fe Fi Mo Merley....Shirley!

It ain't quite paradise...

...but it's pretty damn close.

Every once in a while, Ziggy and I will look at one another...usually while we're sittin on the deck, watchin the ole Illinois drift by, just...hangin...and one of us will say to the other, "We done a gooooood thing."

Noooo. We're not talkin about sex. We're talkin about our recent move to the beach house on the moon (Another hat-tip to Jimmy Buffett).

It'll be three weeks tomorrow that we made the move and, despite the longer drives to work for both of us, neither of us has anything even resembling a regret. In fact, it's just too damn bad that we couldn't have done it sooner.

It's kinda funny...when we lived in the city, I never thought the traffic was too awfully bad, even during rush hour. Compared to a lotta cities, it's not. But compared to here...well, let's just say when I finally hit that Route 6 ramp out at the end of Knoxville, I breathe a big sigh of relief and can feel myself relaxing. Until I hit 29, anyway.

I'm not kiddin...those people that drive 29 everyday are nuts. Yea, it's a four-lane highway. But it's not the interstate, so STOP DRIVING IT LIKE IT IS!

The speed limit is 55. 'Course, even I can't drive 55. It's physically impossible. But neither do I run 75-80 (or higher) like many do. I try to keep it between 60-65, but usually get my doors blown off. Even that can't dampen my enthusiasm for living out here, though.

I've been to the only grocery store in town five or six times, so far. And every time, I've found a close parking place. It's like crazy. There's no cruisin the 100-acre parkin lot for 15 minutes waiting for someone to pull out. The store is right there. And I can actually wander around the store without someone runnin their cart up the backs of my ankles or rammin it into some other tender body part. Aaaaand, they carry my favorite tea...Arizona Diet Green Tea. Bless their hearts!

Oh...OH! And I ran into the little hardware store the other day and someone actually came up to me and asked me if I needed help in finding anything! Can you believe it??

Aaaannnnd, while there's not a Starbuck's to be found, there is a little, drive-through coffee joint with a cute (but dorky) name...Chilli-COFFEE. Get it? Chillicothe? Chilli-coffee. Wonder how long it took 'em to come up with that little gem?

'Course, there are a few other things that we don't have.

We don't have any little terrorists-in-training, pointin toy guns at me.

We don't have any bangin and stompin from the upstairs neighbors.

We don't have any panicked, middle-of-the-night, pounding-on-our-door, oh-my-gawd-whatt'm-I-gonna-do-?-my-carbon-monoxide-detector=is-BEEPING! elderly neighbors.

Instead of lookin out our back patio door at the back of some old fart's house or havin to watch the aforementioned old fart wander around his backyard, white stork-legs shinin in the sun, we look out the front windows/door and see this...



We don't see a lotta police cars...we see hummingbirds.

We don't have burglers...we have barges and boats.

We don't have drive-bys...we have mallard duck fly-bys.

We don't hear many sirens...we hear the occasional, distant train whistle.

We don't hear any gunshots...we hear geese.

Yup. We done a goooood thing.

This thing I do

So, it seems that

Scott's

meme cherry has been popped with a "why do you blog?" meme. It's pretty simple, really. Just list five reasons why you blog and then tag four other people.

And he's tagged moi.

Now, I'm reasonably sure it's because he realllly wants to know my thoughts on it. Either that, or he just couldn't think of anyone else dumb enough to do it. (just kiddin, Scott)

Anywho, why do I blog?

1. I'll be damned if I know.

2. I like exercises in futility.

3. I like to hear myself type.

4. Because it's all about me...as it should be.

5. I like to say things that shock and embarrass people...especially my daughter. Like when I talk about old, fat women like me having.....SEX.

Ok, so ya want the real reasons?

Uh.

Well.

Lemme think.

Um.

.....

Wait.

Ok, while I'm thinkin, I'll keep it local and tag

Jen

,

Chef Kev

,

PI

and the one...the only...

Vonster

.

Ok, I'm done thinkin. Those are the real reasons.

Gawd love 'im...

...ain't nobody can lay a smackdown like

Grau

. He speaks of idiot drivers in ways that I can only dream of.

"Anyone who stops at the same time I do, waves me on to go when I have the right of way anyway, then floors it at me laughing and giving me the finger should be dragged from their vehicle, sodomized with a 16″ barbed wire dildo using chili paste for lube, and then beaten to death with a cat O’ nine tails woven from nettles and poison sumac."

And then there's this gem...

"I hope you hit and kill one of the aforementioned tards and get locked up with a ham fisted, 450lb lesbian sporting 4″ jagged press-on nails whose prison handle is “Miss Fistie”. Then, I’ll be warned of your convertable’s approach by the “FWHOOOOOOOOO” noise of the wind whipping across your coffee can sized vagina like a bellows blowing over the neck of a moonshine jug."

Like ..."a bellows blowing over the neck of a moonshine jug."

It's like...poetry.

It's pure, unadulterated genius, I tell ya.

Whatta hoot!

Create Your Own PaloozaHead - Visit Lollapalooza.com

Swiped from my pal

Junebugg

.

AAahahahahahhah!


Create Your Own PaloozaHead - Visit Lollapalooza.com

Thank gawd the tiki bar is open...

...Thank gawd the tiki lights do shine
Thank gawd the tiki bar is open
Come on in and open up your mind - Jimmy Buffett


Rollin, rollin
Rollin on da river - Tina Turner


Morning has broken
Like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken
Like the first bird - Cat Stevens


Sittin on the deck by the bay
Watchin the tide roll away
I'm just sittin on the deck by the bay
Wastin time - Otis Redding
(Ok. So I used a little "poetic license" with that one)

I'll have a pink one...XL, please

Bulletproof vest, that is. Wonder if they do come in pink?

From today's PJStar:

In the first shooting, Desmond Mays, 18, of Peoria was treated and released from OSF Saint Francis Medical Center after being shot about 4 p.m. Wednesday in the left arm in the 1900 block of West Ann Street.

Mays told police he didn't know who shot him or why.

Witnesses reported seeing two groups of people arguing near the corner of Ann and Western Avenue. Members of each group pulled out guns and fired several shots before running in opposite directions, police said.

I was in the 2100 block of West Ann at about 3:30. I saw at least one "gang" on my way there. And I was right across the street from some graffiti on an abandoned building that says something about

MS-13

.

Nice.

Oh...and as an added bonus, I'm pretty sure I saw a real, live drug deal goin down.

Danger IS my middle name, ya know.

Ahem.

Is it ego, a sense of entitlement or just plain stupidity?

Or did he just have an overwhelming urge to commit suicide by dump truck?

Any biking enthusiasts out there? If you are, you probably oughta skip this particular post. I'm about to call one of your bretheren a moron. If you do what he was doin, you're a moron, too.

During the course of my workday yesterday, I had to run to Princeville. Coming back on...hmmmm...is it 91? Or 90? I get the two mixed up.

Aaaanyway, I was coming back on the Dunlap-Alta-Allen Road route...ya know where I'm talkin about?

To set the scene, there's a big new overpriced, overbuilt, ticky-tacky-type housing (hey...it IS Dunnnnlap, right?) development being constructed on the left side of the road, so there are lots of construction vehicles coming back and forth. There are several businessess along there, too...Shamrock Plastics is one. It was about 3 pm, so all the soccer moms in their SUV's or minivans were...well...doing whatever it is soccer moms do at that time of day. Ferrying all the little rugrats to one place or another, I suppose.

To call the traffic 'heavy' would be a slight understatement. Just to ice the cake a little, the road is narrow and twisty/turny/hilly.

I'm the second vehicle in a looooong line of traffic heading into town. I'm following a slow, lumbering dump truck who takes up nearly the whole lane. I have no way to pass...because of all the shit I just mentioned.

So the dump truck slows down to two fuckin miles an hour. I'm trying to see what the hell the hold up is, when I notice an idiot on a bicycle, riding ON the pavement, just in front and to the right of the dump truck.

He's got his fancy-schmancy bike, complete with water bottle. He's got his spiffy yellow and black spandex (ewwwwww!) bike suit on with matching plastic helmet (yea...that'll protect his pea-brain when that dump truck rolls over it, crushing his skull like an eggshell) and he's pedalin away like he's the only mo fo on the damn road.

Yea. He's cool. (Not in a million years, buddy)

Now, I'm not the smartest cookie in the jar...but...uh...WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING???

With all the places there are to ride a fuckin bicycle around this area, WHY did he pick a busy, narrow road at the absolute BUSIEST time of day? And he's not the first idjit I've seen do that...along with those die-hard joggers that pick the busiest routes at the busiest time of day.

WHY do they do that? Is it like..."hey, nobody'll see me if I ride my bike/jog on a secluded side street/highway. And it's like...all about being seen while I exercise my yuppie ass in my three-hundred dollar biking outfit/jogging shoes, doncha know? I mean, what good is it to have these rock-hard calf muscles or this tight ass if nobody sees 'em, right?"

The dump truck couldn't get around him because of traffic coming the other way. And that stupid sonovabitch would not pull off the road to let the traffic by...or even to save his life, evidently.

I'm sorry, but the next time I read about a cyclist being tragically killed while riding on the highway, it's gonna be damn hard for me to muster up any sympathy.

Especially if he's wearin a big, flashing sign on his back that says, "PLEASE RUN OVER ME AND KILL ME BECAUSE I'M TOO STUPID TO LIVE"

This place is for the birds

Literally.



The Zigster took a little walk around the perimeter this morning. He was startled (ok, it might have been a little more than startled...his exact words were, "I almost shit my pants.") by a flurry of wings just as he started to check out some of our new little tomato plants.

A mallard hen has apparently decided that the old straw mulch around one of our tomato plants is the perfect spot to make a nest.

Now these particular plants are right next to the house...they were "extras"...ones that we didn't have room for in the planters, so rather than throw 'em away, we just stuck 'em in wherever we could find a spot.

Of all the great "hidey-hole" places a damn duck could nest around here, this one chose a high-traffic area.

To paraphrase Forrest, "I'm not a smart duck, Jenn-nay."



When we lived in the apartment in town, we saw a hummingbird or two, so last year for Christmas, I stuck a hummingbird feeder in Ziggy's sock.

Since we moved, of course, we didn't have a chance to put it up there, so one of the first things we did when we moved here is find a spot for it and crossed our fingers that the little fairy-birds would find it.

This morning, they did.

It's been "hit" probably six or eight times already this morning. I've noticed at least two different birds...one is smaller than the other...but I have no idea if there are just two or six of different sizes.

But the way they've been at it this morning, I'm thinkin we're gonna hafta start buying hummingbird juice by the gallon.

Very cool.

Annnnd...this evening I walked down to the beach, camera in hand, just to do a little beachcombing. While there, Mama and Papa Goose had their six babies out for a little paddle up and down the beach.





Just tooooo cute.

Hush

The view directly across from our house.

Cool and cloudy with a few sprinkles today. Kinda gloomy, actually. But about 7:30-8 this evening, the sprinkles stopped and a bit of a fog started to roll up the river from the south. I made a fresh pot of coffee and poured a cup, threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed the camera and walked across the yard to the old, weathered table and chairs that sit just at the retaining wall that's above the "beach" area.

It was absolutely magical. The water was like glass...smooth with the only ripples coming from the occasional fish flopping. And the fog muffled most of the nearby highway noise. And just to add to the whole ambience of the moment, I could hear a train somewhere in the far distance, blowing it's horn. I felt like I was the only human being left on earth.

Wouldn't it be great if you could freeze moments like that and store 'em somewhere where you could drag 'em out any time you wanted? Like a photo album of special moments.


Looking downriver.

For some reason, all I could think of was the movie "On Golden Pond". Except the occasional honk! honk! wraaaaack! wraaack! wraaack! of Canadian Geese replaced the haunting call of loons.

Wonder if there are loons around here? Besides me, I mean.

The river...she is a moody bitch

I find myself watching the river a lot. I can sit at the table and look out the window and watch her go by. Yea, it's a "her". Gotta be.

I can stand in the kitchen, washing dishes and I get lost...mesmerized...just staring at her.

I go out on the deck at night and watch her.

In the short time we've been here, I've noticed that she has moods. In the early morning, she's Grace Kelly...smooth, calm and elegant. Yesterday, later in the day, she was all Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's"...cheerful and bubbly and sparkly. Champagne and diamonds.

At night, she's beautiful...quiet and dark and mysterious. Greta Garbo. She vants to be alone. I like her a lot at night. She has secrets she'll never tell.

Today? Today she was dark and angry and turbulent...and not very pretty. Yea, she got all Joan Crawford/Mommie Dearest on us today....

"Nooooo. Wire. HANGERS!"

It doesn't seem to matter what kinda mood she's in. She has the ability to calm me. I've noticed that in the last few days, too. My mind can be goin six ways to Sunday and all I hafta do is sit down and watch her for a while and it all just...goes away.

Even if she's a grouchy bitch...like she was today.

Uh....'scuse me?

There's a "public service" type commercial that's been running on local tv recently that's kind of got my shorts in a wad.

'Course, it's made by the smoking police, so that right there is enough to twist the ole knickers.

Anywho, this dolly is saying how she got a "smoker's cancer" of the tongue and throat, even though she'd "never smoked a day in her life". She was a bartender and claims she got it through second-hand smoke.

Ok. Maybe. Maybe it was from something else in her environment. Maybe it was just karma. Whatever. For the sake of argument...and there's a lotta argument about second-hand smoke...I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

But the final statement she makes is what really got me.

"No one should have to risk their health for a job."

Excuse me, sweetcheeks...in what world?

What about firemen? Police officers? Those are not only high physical risk jobs, but high stress, as well. Stress kills, doesn't it? What about nurses? Doctors? Hell, what about foundry workers? Steel mill workers? Chemical factory workers? Anybody that's ever been on a factory floor knows that there are health risks everywhere.

How about lumberjacks? High-rise window washers? Hell, convenience store clerks. Office workers.

There's some level of health risk in just about every job I can think of. Some are high risk. Some are lower.

So no one should hafta risk their health for a job, huh?

Gimme a fuckin break.

Gettin there.......

...slowly.


Morning.


The ducks and geese seem to love this particular spot.


It's an albino squirrel...do ya suppose it's a sign?


Living room...


...and from the other side.


Above the windows.


The catchall...uh...I mean loft.


Kitchen.


Dining area.


Our bedroom...


...and another view. Noooo, I didn't make the bed this morning. Hey. I'm on vacation, ok?


Second bedroom. Yea, I know...we've got a bit more work to do this week.


And the deck where we've been spending a lotta time. A new, round table is on it's way to replace the too-narrow one we're using now.

We've also managed to get a dozen or so tomato plants, several pepper plants, a teeny herb garden and a couple pots of coleus/vinca/springerii fern planted. Not bad for four days' work, huh?

We're both on vacation this week and honestly, even though we've been workin our butts off, it feels like vacation. It's absolutely glorious here and, so far, we're tickled we did it.


And Stewie seems pretty happy here, too.