More about Scientists.

I have the utmost respect for scientists.  I do think that some of them need to get their head out of their ass at times.  What do I mean?  Back in the 1980's some scientist said that bumble bees shouldn't be able to fly.  They even referenced it in the "Bee" movie starring Jerry Seinfeld.  This scientist was basing the theory on how bees are nothing at all like airplanes for aerodynamics to produce lift.  I was a teenage kid when I heard this and thought he was an idiot because the bees obviously fly so what's wrong with the theory?  Later on it came out that the aerodynamics of bees is more like a helicopter than an airplane.  Fine, he made a mistake.  The saying is to "publish or perish", that's not literal.  He shouldn't have published any findings until he had a reason why bees could fly.

Because of that and some other experiences I still have respect for scientists but I also will question them more.  Especially if the academic in question seems to be out of the real world loop.  What's the real world loop?  I am 5'8" and weigh about 228.  On the BMI (Body Mass Index) that puts me in the obese area.  My waist is at approximately 37" right now.  What does all of this mean?  According to the BMI I should weigh between 120 and 158 pounds to be in the "normal" range.  If my waist were to get down to a 34" I would be pretty happy, but I have too much muscle to be in the 158 area.

My calves are about 18.5", when I managed a male topless bar (female customers and male dancers) I had the biggest calves and I weighed more than these bodybuilders.  For those of you that don't know, muscle weighs more than fat.  Why did I weigh more?  Are my bones denser?  Possibly a combination of density and muscle.  I have no idea.

According to the BMI I need to lose about 33% of my total weight to be in the "normal" range and that's just barely in the spectrum.  I don't know if I could lose 70 pounds.  No matter how much fat I lose I will still have a lot of muscle.  If I become a complete couch potato then would I lose some muscle?  Sure, but I don't think it will be that much.

Whoever created the BMI should have factored in people with muscle.  To me the BMI is useless and only makes scientists look bad.  Maybe they should get out of the lab and into the real world a little more.

The Play. Act Three Scene Two.

ACT THREE SCENE TWO.

SETTING:  AFTER THE SERVICE GROUPS EATING DONUTS AND COFFEE/JUICE.

LADY ALPHA:  (MIFFED) Who would do such a thing?  My granddaughter is paying her way through college waiting tables and how is she supposed to pay her rent with one of these?  (WAVES A TRACT)

GENTLEMAN 1:  We shouldn't have to tip the servers, maybe the companies should pay a decent wage.

LADY ALPHA:  So you're one of those.  The company pays crap because you are supposed to tip.  If you can't afford to tip then don't go to a restaurant.  

GENTLEMAN 1:  It's not that simple, the companies want us, the customers, to subsidize their employees.  Why should we do that?

LADY ALPHA:  If you don't "subsidize" their employees then the cost of a meal would go through the roof.

GENTLEMAN 1:  Again, why should we subsidize the employees?  If they don't like the pay then they can get another job.  

LADY ALPHA:  And again you've proven that you're an idiot.  When you don't tip then they lose the good employees and you're stuck with the ones that'll put up with you for a dollar.  Although, I guess that describes your marriage.

The Play. Act Two. Scene Two.

Act Two.  Scene Two.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, DIFFERENT GROUP OF PEOPLE.  SOME ARE POPPING UP THEIR HEADS TO WATCH THE REVEREND.

LADY 1:  He is cute.
LADY 2:  Yes he is.  But he seems a little off.  Whenever he's talking to you he's always looking around.  I'm used to guys talking to my chest but he'll look at my hands a lot and over my shoulders.  I'm not used to guys not looking at my chest.
GENTLEMAN 2:  Sweetie, I've known you for years, most women talk to your chest also.

LADY 1:  I know what you mean.  When I was working in the church office I heard him talking to some plumber for the church, and when the plumber said he had to raise the estimate the Reverend's voice got real quiet, so quiet I couldn't really hear what he said.  The plumber I could hear and he wasn't joking like before, said it was his mistake and he would fix it on the original estimate and he would do it right then instead of the next day.  I do wonder what he said to that plumber.

GENTLEMAN 2:  (SCOFFING AND A LITTLE CONDESCENDING)  Please, do you think he threatened him?  He probably just asked about giving the church a discount.  And he was embarrassed so he whispered it.

ACT TWO. SCENE THREE.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, BACK TO THE REVEREND'S GROUP.

REVEREND:  (JOKING AND HAVING FUN LIKE THE REST OF HIS GROUP)  As everyone knows, I've recently moved here.  Any places I should avoid?  Any restaurants I must try, or try to avoid?

The woes of Halloween.

I'm tired and writing short stories is so much harder and more time consuming than what I normally write.  I call it "zen writing" because the fingers know what to type.  That's a reference to zen archers who don't aim like normal people, they do say that the arrow knows where to go, though.  I'm going to give you some random thoughts, slam down a shot of Nykill (I spell it like that because I hate the taste of the vile green crap) and go to sleep.

I love my kids.  I really do love them so much it takes my breath away.  Not so much around Halloween though, especially not when I'm trying to watch what I eat.

It's not even Halloween yet and the city has done a trick or treat thing in the park already.  Because of that there is four bags of candy hidden in the hall closet.  Why four you ask since I only have three minions?  Simple, I go through the bags and get the propaganda, opened candy, and trash out then I go through the remains and take out the good stuff that my wife and I like.

I put an initial on the kids bags so they don't fight over whose bag is whose and the green bag is ours.  We slowly dole out the candy as dessert.  What ever the kids don't want or is around the house too long is given to someone in an office, they always have a bowl available to throw candy in.

I, on the other hand, walk by the closet and thinks, those chocolates are small, I can easily have two pieces and it won't mess up my diet.   However, I walk by the closet I don't know how many times in a day.

The Play. Act 3.

I'm going to jump around on the play because I can't figure out how to do the welcoming party, just a bit of a blind spot for the moment.  This will be something that is near and dear to my heart.  Tipping.

ACT 3.  SCENE 1.

SETTING:  THE CHURCH.  THE REVEREND IS IN THE BACKGROUND FACING THE AUDIENCE AND THE CONGREGATION IS IN THE FOREGROUND FACING HIM.

REVEREND:  I was looking for inspiration for the sermon today and I found this letter.  (HOLDS LETTER UP AND WAVES IT.)  It's about giving.  I'm all about giving; I love Christmas, I think of the gift giving as a puzzle.  Anyone can give a person a nice present but it's a real challenge to get them something really special.  When the next year you hear complaints because your gift last year was just so perfect, that's when you know you did it right.  I'm sorry, I lied to you.  This letter isn't about giving it's about not giving.  When you donate to a church you shouldn't give more than you can afford.  In fact if you give more than you can afford then you haven't been listening.  Mr. G upstairs wants you to take care of yourself and your family before you give to this or any church.  If all you can afford is a nickel then we're happy.  Talk to me about how to manage your money better but we're still okay with whatever you can afford to give.  On the other hand though...when you go to a restaurant then you should tip.  If the service was bad let the manager know and tip accordingly.  If the service was good, or hopefully, great then tip accordingly.  If you're not sure then a simple trick is a dollar for every 5 or 6 dollars on the tab.  What prompted this sermon and this letter?  (STARTING TO GET ANGRY)  The waiter who wrote this letter said that his table of six people from my church didn't tip him, instead they said they would pray for him and left him some literature from my church.  Now if you want to make yourself look cheap then go ahead and do it.  If you want to make me and my church look cheap, I'm an adult I can handle it.  But when you want to make my church and Mr G look cheap then you've got another thing coming.  (CALMING DOWN) These waiters are making nothing on their paycheck, they live off of tips.  They live off of the kindness of strangers, much like our Savior.  Maybe we should act like our Savior more and remember that he filled their bellies before he even thought about filling their souls.  Think about that the next time you go out to eat.

END OF SCENE 1

I've been wanting to get that out of my system for awhile now.  When I was a server and a bartender I did get those religious tracts more often than you think.  Some were pretty basic telling about Gods will and how this church can be there for you.  Then some were rather crappy.  One that I received looked like a ten dollar bill on one side and on the other side it said that I was tricked much like Satan tricks us all the time.  If you're going to stiff me on my pay do you really have to make a joke about it?  This sermon started because I wanted to write a letter to the churches that I had collected the tracts from and tell them what kind of reputation they have.

The Play. Act Two.

Act Two.  Scene One.

SETTING: A PARTY IN A LIVING ROOM, COUCH, BIG CHAIR, TV, DINNER TABLE (SMALLER), KITCHEN CHAIRS AND EXTRA MISMATCHED CHAIRS.  THE MOBSTER IS NOW DRESSED IN A BLACK SUIT LIKE A REVEREND/MINISTER.  EVERYONE IS IN GROUPS TALKING AND SNACKING.  THE REVEREND IS TALKING TO A GROUP OF PEOPLE AND A SERIOUS LOOKING OLDER LADY PUSHES HER WAY THROUGH.

LADY ALPHA:  Pardon me Reverend, I've heard the rumors and scuttlebutt and now I want you to tell me how you heard the call.
REVEREND (FORMER MOBSTER):  I was wondering who would ask me first.  It's really simple actually, after high school I thought about the clergy but decided to see the world so I went into the Army...
GENTLEMAN 1:  What did you...
REVEREND:  11 Bravo, First to go last to know.  Our Uncle Sam taught me a lot of things but it really taught me to love God.  After the Army I used the GI Bill to go to college, I majored in Religious History with a minor in Accounting, by the way.  While in college I did some work for friends of the family, when I finally graduated the company I worked for "made me an offer I couldn't refuse", to use a quote I despise.  I worked for them for years, did rather well if I say so myself, but then the company changed and I didn't change with it.  So there I am, adrift, not sure what to do and I got a phone call than changed my world.  My mother had died.  Things happened pretty fast after that, I got my act together, well my spiritual act that is and realized that everything in my past was to make me a better shepherd of my flock.  I was raised Catholic but the Catholic church and I don't see eye to eye on everything, I started looking around at the "competition", I remember some of the priests calling the non-Catholics that, and I liked this one, it just fit me like a good suit.

Act Two.  Scene Two.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, DIFFERENT GROUP OF PEOPLE.  SOME ARE POPPING UP THEIR HEADS TO WATCH THE REVEREND.

LADY 1:  He is cute.
LADY 2:  Yes he is.  But he seems a little off.  Whenever he's talking to you he's always looking around.  I'm used to guys talking to my chest but he'll look at my hands a lot and over my shoulders.  I'm not used to guys not looking at my chest.
GENTLEMAN 2:  Sweetie, I've known you for years, most women talk to your chest also.

That's it for the night.  I'm not too sure about the last two speaking parts for act 2 scene 2.  I want the gossipy feel but I would also like to avoid the whole bust part.

The Play.

I've been kicking around a few ideas in the back of my brain for the past few weeks or years (depending on the idea).  My wife told me to write more short stories instead of my typical thought du jour.  So I'll start with the basics and expand from there nightly.  The short stories take more time than the raving but I'll try.  Sounds simple doesn't it?  Then why doesn't everyone do it?

I'm thinking of a play because that will force me to limit it to one "camera" or focal point.  Also by doing it as a screenplay then I don't have to worry about sounding trite with all of the "he said" "she returned" jazz.  I'm not actually a fan of most plays, most are musicals and I'm not a fan of musicals, but the structure should be better for my writing skills.  Since I'm not a pro at doing this, any rules or systems for writing a screenplay will be missing.

Act one.

SETTING:  Hotel room.  Two chairs at a table/desk.  Bed.  Three guys.  Two Federal Agents slightly rumpled looking, one older and one younger.  "Mobster" type dressed well in a pinstripe suit.  Shades drawn, place should look like they have lived there for awhile.  Younger Agent (Fields) is annoyed with the criminal, older one (Shaw) just thinks it's a job.

MOBSTER:  After the trial then what?
FIELDS:  We've been over that.  We get you a new id and a job then we never have to see you again.
MOBSTER:  (DISBELIEVING) Yeah, in case you haven't noticed before, the only things I am qualified to do is crime and government work.  (SNEERING)  And I have standards.
FIELDS:  (GETTING ANGRY) Hey, you need to watch your lip...
SHAW:  (TALKING OVER HIS PARTNER)  Don't sell yourself short.  I have studied your profile, you're good at spotting a liar, good at motivating people (glares at partner when he's about to say something) even without violence, you know more about accounting than a lot of politicians, all around good communication and leadership skills...
FIELDS:  (SHAKING HIS HEAD) You make him sound like my brother the minister, too bad this mobster doesn't want to be a minister.
MOBSTER:  (SHY AND AMUSED) Well, now that you mention it; before I started working for Mr. Rocco I thought about it and actually got a degree in Religious History.
FIELDS:  (QUIETLY) No way.
SHAW:  (EXCITED) It could work, Mr Rocco would never look for you in a church.  (POINTING AT MOBSTER) Quick, name three states you would love to go to.
MOBSTER:  Easy California, Florida, and Hawaii.
SHAW:  (PACING) Fly over state it is.  Let's get this trial done with and we'll get something worked out and have you preaching before the month is out.
MOBSTER:  (LOOKING AT HIS SUIT SLEEVE) I'm going to miss pinstripes.
End of Act 1.

Engineers and Lazy People.

When I worked at the clubs one of the opening managers duties was to stock the beer bar, busy work I think.  One day our GM was there and noticed how I stocked it because it was different than pretty much everyone else.  I told him that it was a trick I picked up from A****.  He doesn't like A**** and mentioned how lazy people make the best engineers.  At first I laughed along with him but then I was annoyed.

I'm not an engineer but I'm definitely lazy.  Even when I'm doing a lot of work it's because I think it will be less work in the long run.  I'm fascinated by systems that companies use to reduce wasted work.  It could be something as simple as a spreadsheet to audit the register at the end of the night to something as involved as inventing a new gadget.

Let's take as an example the Pygmy's from Africa.  Just like every other human they don't do well in a fight against most animals unless they use their brains.  They hunt elephants; hunting elephants or antelope is going to be the same amount of work, because that's the most meat for the tribe.  How do they do this?  Some lazy Pygmy decided to get his buddies to help him and they dug a pit.  This lazy guy then covered the pit and they lured a elephant over it.  Gravity does the rest; if necessary, they can use spears if gravity slacks off.  This lazy guy and his (or her) buddies now have a lot of meat and hide to eat and use.  All because one person was too lazy to run in the savanna looking for food to spear.

The saying about not reinventing the wheel makes a lot of sense to me.  You don't have to do the same work over and over again, unless you can do it better.  Take the wheel for example, there is a huge difference between racing tires for a bicycle compared to mountain bike tires.  They are both superficially the same and you can do both rides with each tire but the one that is specialized for your ride will make a better ride for you.  Why are there different styles of tires?  Because some lazy rider was tired of changing his flat racing tires when he went out into the mountain trails.

Call inventors and innovators lazy if you want, we are the ones you go to when you have a problem.

By the way, the trick with beer bars was to open the beer case upside down, remove the divider, and fold the flaps down again.  Place into the beer bar right side up pull the cardboard case up, the bottom flaps will slowly open and leave the two dozen beers in place.  Fast as hell, but you don't need a full case of most beers in the beer bar.

More adventures in riding.

I'm either coming down with something or I'm having an allergy attack.  One of the sucky things about getting older is the fact that your body changes and your clues aren't the same anymore.  Damn body.  Today and yesterday I didn't want to do a damn thing but I do like riding my bike and it's a good cardio exercise so I forced myself to put on a long sleeve shirt and bundle the kid up.  It was cold this morning.

It hasn't rained recently so we go on to the mudding trails and we're zipping along and having a sweaty blast.  I say a sweaty blast because I swear the temperature went up about 15 degrees within three minutes of my ride.

I see a stick in the trail and I make sure to get out of the way because I don't want a flat a mile and change away from my house with a kid and trailer to drag along.  I'm one of those crazy riders that doesn't carry the needed equipment in the trailer that has the room, as I said "crazy".

This is the stick, it was about 20-22" long and I guess I angered the stick because it decided to attack my child.  My child dodged out of the way so the stick spent all of its energy in vain.  Stupid stick.

This is the hole that said stick poked into the trailer.  Yes, that is a blanket because as I said, it was cold in the morning.  The hole is a pretty decently sized gash in the fabric, about 1/2" by 1", I majorly angered the stick.



I was thinking about taking the stick home and burning it in the fireplace to show it the consequences of trying to attack my child but then I remembered something.  It's a stick and it didn't attack my child it was just there.

Resumes.

A friend wanted to use me as a reference on her resume so of course I said sure.  We chit chatted about what kind of resume she had and she replied that she had a "regular ass resume".  Me being the way I am I assumed she wouldn't mind some help and pointers on how to make a better resume.  Hence this post.

Their are four basic types of resumes:  chronological, academic, skills, and results.  Most people do the chronological one; my last job was this, the next one was this, etc.  I did until I picked up a book called:  Winning Resumes - Career Coach Series by Robin Ryan.  Great book, she makes a great point of selling what you are and tooting your own horn.  

I did that with my resume and I did get a lot of call backs; unfortunately, I was honest in my interview about my background and the number of interviewing ladies that didn't like the topless bar background is a bit surprising.  I didn't lie on my resume, on the contrary I did put out some honest numbers like "part of the team that increased sales 26%".  I had a whole section of my resume that was just accomplishments.  They were pretty simple once I thought about it; at this club sales were up whatever percentage, at this other club employment numbers were improved by this percentage, changed venues with this club, implemented this program (which saved this much money) at this club, and etc.  

In the real estate business it's called "puffery", a classic example would be "handy man dream house" instead of "whip out more cash to fix every damn thing" (I've bought a house like that before).  Again, you don't want to lie but how can you phrase something that you think is normal into something that the employer would want?  Do you own your own business?  That gives you skills with bookkeeping, payroll, inventory, auditing, pricing, marketing, and a host of other things.  Were you a bartender, waitress, or dancer?  Those jobs give you major skills in reading people, and doing it quickly, and suggestive selling.  Don't think a dancer knows about suggestive selling?  At my clubs you would make chump change on the stages but if a customer bought you a bottle of champagne then you could skip that set in order to make real money on the floor doing table dances.  Have you worked at a charity?  Did the place help more people whilst you were there or did they do so much help that the charity was no longer needed?  

Don't look at your experiences from your point of view, look at them from a salesperson's point of view.  

Riding.

I was looking for some books on riding and I got distracted by bike quotes.  Apparently by riding a bicycle I'm in good company.  H.G. Wells, Mark Twain, and even Albert Einstein rode bikes.  Einstein even said that he thought up the theory of relativity on a bike.

Makes sense to me because I'm thinking about so much on my rides.  When I'm riding on streets I'm somewhat on autopilot; my eyes are looking for hazards, my ears are scanning for anything unusual, and my body is keeping me going.  All of this going on and it's nothing compared to how my brain is cranking out ideas and expanding on them.

Even when I'm riding on mudding trails and all of my senses are in overdrive to make sure some wild animal or wild truck doesn't make my day a bad one, my brain is still working overtime.  Don't know why but it seems that I get more thinking done when I'm busier on the mudding trails.

I could lose more weight by running but would my mind get as much of a workout?  I think not.

The Man with the Magic Hands.

I have magic hands.  I can't do "magic" of course but I'm one hell of a surgeon.  I've had patients, nurses, and peers say they are magic.  Let me tell you; getting a compliment out of a jealous surgeon is harder than doing a transplant.

When I was younger I was good with my hands; I could do puzzles and magic tricks with out a problem, I even saw a guy clap with one hand once and I figured out how he did it and did it myself.  When I went to med school I could do my studies and classes without a problem but I had no idea what field I wanted to get into.  Until I worked with a surgeon and had a blade in my hand.  My peers don't like that name, they'll call it a scalpel or even tool but they'll never be truthful like I am.  It's a blade and it makes my hands magic.

I can give life back to someone that had no future.  The hot sticky blood is flowing like a river of Merlot and I can cause life to go back into the patient.  I can give them a future.  And then I had that dream.  My hands are magic, what if I didn't give my patients life?  What would happen if I was cutting and the patient woke up?  Would I stop or would I continue?

My dream was about my magic hands and a patient that wasn't under and wasn't willing.  I couldn't see the patients face but I could see my perfect cuts.  I could hear my patient in my dream.  My patients' screams are what woke me up.  I was disgusted with myself, not because of the dream but because of how erect I was from the dream.

Now I wonder if I'm going to start hunting prostitutes like Jack the Ripper.  So far I've only cut animals but I wonder if that's how Jack started also.

Hiring the military.

Writing about the military, check it out here.

Asking too much.

Our children had a Halloween party at school today.  Of course we went and had fun.  Maybe even too much fun for one kid.

Whilst there I saw a silent auction.  I grew up in auctions and I don't believe that a silent auction has the fun and energy that a half-way decent live auction has, but I still like them.  It was a very boring selection.  Some of the charity dinners I've been to had some incredible things for sale; one had a four day vacation for four to a golf course, one had a lot of jewelry, a year of cheesecakes (I won that one, they were so good I shared them to save my waist), and a tour of a airplane manufacturing plant with simulator flight time.  This one looked more like the givers were cleaning out their closet.

I asked why they didn't ask for donations from the parents.  "We don't want to ask too much from them" was the response.  I have a brother and a sister that will make and give things when I say it's for my kids, so I'm thinking that the school is missing out (or as my father would put it "Leaving money on the table").  Then I thought about it a little more.

Can a group ask too much from their people?  Yepper.  If they ask all the time then burnout will set it and they will get nothing.  A little most of the time is better in the long run than a lot right now and nothing later.

I'm still going to ask my sister and brother to donate something for next year though.

Cloth diapers.

My wife and I prefer cloth diapers over disposable but it's sad the amount of negativity and ignorance displayed on them.

When we told my mother we were using cloth she just asked why.  Most people have the reaction of "ewww" or something along those lines.  My mother just thought that disposable were easier but they became affordable after all of her kids were out of diapers so she never actually used disposable.

The other people just don't really think about what's going on with diapers.  Even parenting magazines don't really give them a fair shake.  One review I read was just insulting, the author didn't try and didn't even try to hide that.  Admittedly, I've never seen a cloth diaper ad in a magazine but I've seen reams of disposable ads.  That may be changing because the number of people using cloth have come out of the closet but it's still nothing compared to the disposable market.

The critics say that disposable are cheaper.  On a per diaper basis then yes the cloth definitely come out the loser on that.  But disposables are called that for a reason.  Check around online and you'll find a community of cloth diaper users and makers, you'll even find a market for the used diapers.  Some people will sell their diapers at a discount just to get rid of them (we found a big stash for $50) and some will sell theirs for 20% off retail.  FYI, some diapers like Preston's Pants can go for $35 each.  Considering you can use them for a few years and then sell them for 80% of what you bought them for that's not a bad deal.
And they're so cute.

When we were looking into cloth the first time we saw an ad for a diaper service.  They drop off clean diapers every week and take the used ones.  They had a guarantee, if your kid wasn't potty trained by the time they were two then the diapers were free.  Does Pampers do that?  Our view on that guarantee is pretty simple; our eldest (all disposable) was wetting the bed at 4 whilst our second (all cloth) was potty trained at 16 months.  The third is cloth also.

Fundraiser Idea.

I've been looking into fundraisers for schools lately and I haven't come up with a better idea yet.  I do think it's sad that we need our kids to sell things.  Yes, I said need.  From the teachers and administrators I've spoken to the proceeds are going to mandatory things like floor mats and that big sign in front of schools that tell the parents much needed information.  If the money was being used frivolously then I would be leading the charge to change that situation, but it's not.

Whilst out driving around I saw a billboard for a Police vs. Firefighter charity event.  It was boxing, I've also seen them for basketball.  I want to see one for "the dozens".  For those of you not of the right age group dozens is a contest of slams and put downs, it's called dozens because after about twelve slams you  might start hitting your opponent.  Did you ever see a Dean Martin Celebrity Roast?  Like that but not as nice.

Let's get some comics as half of the judges, the other half should be cops and firefighters so they can understand the inside jokes and technical jargon.

Some people can't laugh at themselves, they should not be in this game.  Those that can should make some cash for some charity.  Those two groups of people are the crazy ones that run towards the gunshots and run into burning buildings, those that can laugh at themselves would bond a little more doing this.  Majorly have to make sure that the right people are in it, the wrong people would just cause problems for everyone.  I can just imagine the assortment of donut, hydrant humper, zero, and hose jockey jokes.

Another restaurant review.

My wife sends me a text message saying that we are going out to eat tonight.  And we're getting ice cream.  I'm an "eating out whore" so I'm really okay with that.  Then I started to think that I screwed up the cooking lately and she doesn't want to eat my overcooked under spiced meals.  So I call her.  She was having a bad day at work, that's why she wanted to go out.  Fair enough.

I check around for a barbecue joint that we haven't been to before.  Found one, the reviews are good and the website says the place has been around by the same husband and wife owner since 1959.  I decide that we need to try it.  We wrestle the minions into the car and fight the traffic getting to a place that looks like it's been around since the 50's.  That's a good sign to me.  My wife mentions how it's not promising that there is only one car in the parking lot and you can see the four customers at one table.  It's 6:45 pm and the place is dead.  It's a slow day in the restaurant business but one table is bad no matter your excuses.

We go in and the employees line up behind the counter.  One lady is at the register, one guy is slicing the meat, someone is just hanging out (I think he was the dishrat), and the older guy is doing the sides for the meals.  On the sneeze shields are the guidelines for accepting credit cards or checks (what the hell? a restaurant that accepts checks?) and things about the meals.  We're in a rib mood whilst two of the kids want sausage.

Decent portion size for the price, the kids meals seem like a major value for the price.  For two adult meals (rib plates), three kids meals (two sausage and one rib) plus five drinks the total was $41.  That works out to about $11 per adult and $5 per kid with soft drinks (I didn't see any alcohol), add in the tax and you get the full total.

The food was a good value for the portion unfortunately the taste just wasn't there.  One of the sides was "baked potato casserole", it had more spice and kick than either the sausage, the ribs, or the barbecue sauce.  That side was probably the best part of the meal.  On the menu it described the sausage as German sausage, I guess that means that it's not very flavorful and what little flavor there is is sweet.  The ribs were tender but they didn't have much in the way of flavor either.  The barbecue sauce (the menu said that they make it) was boring, what little flavor it had was also sweet.  Looking at one of my kids plate and I couldn't tell which pile of condiment was the sauce and which was the ketchup, they were about the same color.  The green beans had bacon but I bet they boiled them because again-not much flavor.  The menu said that the fries are fresh cut and made fresh to order.  I couldn't tell.  They tasted like fries with the skins left on.

While there the place did a good business of people coming in and ordering sandwiches to go, I saw about a dozen customers come in and order; some were big orders and some were smaller.  I noticed the cashier lady was very busy if she wasn't ringing up something, she would wipe down a table or clean or stock something.  I didn't see the other employees until someone came in and ordered something.  The place was clean, the ambiance was about perfect for a "barbecue joint" but I'm not going back unless I'm taking a friend that likes sweet barbecue because I don't.

My jewelry.

I only wear two pieces of jewelry on a daily basis.  My wedding ring, of course, and my bracelet.

I wear my wedding ring because it's a tangible symbol of my marriage to the lady I love.  Anyone that doesn't wear their wedding ring is kind of implying the things that a happily married person doesn't want to say.  Obviously, I take mine off if it might slip off or if I'm doing something where the ring could get caught and cause problems; all of those reasons make perfect sense to me.

My bracelet is a little different.  The last restaurant I worked at we had a group of people come in that were wearing polo shirts that had a badge as a crest and it said "C.O.P.S."...I had no clue who they were.  I assumed they were the citizens on patrol (like a neighborhood watch) and didn't think about them again.  While doing table touches I asked them what C.O.P.S. stood for.  They explained how they were Concerns of Police Survivors which means that if a cop dies in the line of duty then they will help out the survivors of the officer in question.  They explained to me that they might cook up some meals for the family, counseling for the family, help with expenses (I think they do more of the helping deal with the insurance company instead of actual cash), and more counseling.  I told them that since my wife is a cop hopefully I will never need you.

Later on I was helping the server deliver their meals and they gave me the bracelet.  They told me that hopefully I'll never need their help but I'm one of them now.

I'm not much of a joiner and that's a club I really don't want to join.

Tragedy.

It's been a long day and I'm tired.  Yesterday was my cheat day so I ate pasta and garlic bread and dessert even; as I said, it was a cheat day.  Oddly enough, my total calorie intake wasn't that bad really.  I even rode my bike for a little bit.

Today is not a cheat day.  I was going to grill up cheeseburgers so I needed to watch my calories before dinner.  I did, all is well.  The kids went to bed and I'm going for a bike ride.  I'm not even going to pull a trailer behind me.  Then tragedy.  My bike has a flat.  To make matters worse I'm out of inner tubes and patches.

Fine.

I can put off riding until manana.  During the day I can go to the store and grab the needed equipment.  That doesn't help me since I want to ride right now.  I like going out at night on Sundays.  I can zip by houses so quick each house is like a photograph to me.  A glance to the left and I see an open garage door with guys smoking cigars and watching the game.  A glance to the right and I see the moving van just starting to unload.  I've moved at night and I know how much fun that is.  The air is full of laundry detergent and the occasional smokey smell from someones grill.

The night is full of anticipation.  The kids are going to school in the morning and the parents are going to work.  Sunday night is that twilight time between play and responsibilities.  When I'm out riding I can feel that mixture.  It's exhilarating.

Perseverance.

After I proposed to my wife she went a little crazy, some might say she was crazy to accept but that's a different post, and started reading bridal magazines and tearing out pictures and putting them in a binder.  From what I've noticed since then this is a very normal practice.

Pretty much what she did was get three or four different pictures of something then we would narrow it down to one.  After all, there can be only one.  She did this with bridal and grooms cakes, wedding rings, invitations, flowers, dresses, some other stuff that I kind of blurred on.  

What I really remember was the wedding dress ordeal.  Everything else she had options, she saw this dress and fell in love with it.  No other options in her binder.  That dress or naked was heard at one time.  That might have been me though.  That designer didn't have any dealers in the DFW area and her closest dealer was in Houston.  Money was pretty tight so we couldn't just drive down to check out a dress.  

We go a bridal shop and see if they have a knock off or something close.  We show the sales lady the picture and tell her that it's only in Houston.  What store she asks.  We tell her and she tells us she's from Houston and she knows that shop.  The dress would go for about $10,000.  I love my wife more than I can express but that's not going to happen.  We look at other dresses and my wife just can't find anything else.  

We leave empty handed and figure we'll do more checking around on the web and other local stores.  Still nothing that even comes close.  What the hell, let's call this place and see if it's really $10,000.  I call and from the lady that answered the phone and the background noise I assume that the dress isn't going to sell for five digits.  

I tell the identifying stuff for the dress and she tells me it's $229 plus an extra $29 for the shawl.  I repeat the numbers to make sure I heard correctly.  I look at my wife and I think she's stopped breathing.  I heard right.  I tell her that we're up in Dallas and we could drive down on my next day off.  The angel on the phone tells me to go to a good alteration shop and tell them we need measurements for a wedding dress, fax the numbers to the shop and they'll FedEx the finished dress to us in a week or so.  

We go to a alterations place that we've used before and since and tell them what we need.  I'm a guy and I've been fitted for a custom suit before but that's completely different than getting a wedding dress apparently.  This alterations lady is measuring here and there whilst I'm writing everything down.  I didn't know what the numbers were, I just know that the shoulders and every part of the shoulders had a tape measure against or around them numerous times.  I fax the numbers to the shop along with my credit card information.  

I get a call from my wife about a week later where she tells me that her dress came in and it fits perfectly.  Getting that dress was all about perseverance and a little luck.  Lucky because that designer was pretty new when we were married, now her dresses do go for the four and five digit area.  She's still beautiful in it.

Lake.

This is a panorama photo of the lake less than a mile away from my house.  This picture doesn't do the view justice.  It looks great and you can fish, you know how many people love that combination?

Then I looked down at the trash.  I'm standing on rocks and I had to be very careful of where I stepped because I didn't want to fall and stop falling by going face first into a pile of broken beer bottles.  Call me silly.  I'm a big proponent of recycling partly because I think that in the future someone will come up with a way to make recycling profitable.  When that happens I think that we are going to see some insanely clean stretches land.

I looked around and I wondered if these people that were littering here treat their homes like this also.  Some probably do and some probably think that "it's just a little bit".  I'm not sure which is worse, the slob or the delusional one.

As I've said before, the human race doesn't mean a damn thing to the planet.  If we completely screw up and kill each other off the planet will survive, it will heal whatever damage we did to it and then with evolution still going this planet will replace us.

Have you ever worked with a useless person?  One of those people that if they disappear you might not even notice?  One that when they disappear you just replace them without even caring if you did something wrong.  That's how the planet thinks of us.  Humans haven't been around for that long in a geological sense, are we still in our probationary phase?

School fundraisers. Part 1.

A friends recent post made me think about fundraisers.  What does that money go to?  I talked to teachers and administrators and finally found some answers.

If the cash is generated by kids then it must be spent on the kids.  That's awesome.  I was a bit worried about some PTO/PTA group using the money for a nice little trip somewhere.  Also the cash can be used to pay for award ceremonies or even floor mats at the doors.  I thought both of those things were awesome until I thought about it a little more.

The places that should be teaching our most valuable resource don't have enough cash to do the things they need to do.  In order to make up that pitfall we have the kids shill cookies and candy.

How in the hell did we get so messed up?

What a day.

SON.  OF.  A.  BITCH.

That's the kind of day I've been having.  That's not quite true, that's the kind of month I've been having.  I'm an enforcer for a not so important mobster.  During the day I drive a cab and when he needs something done I take care of it.  That's how today started.

My fares were lousy, every single one of them.  None of them tipped great; hell, none of them tipped decently either.  I went to the garage today and my cab is getting worked on, so I have to use someone else's.  The only one available was Bitch.  We named that cab Bitch because it had the worst luck it seems.  It started with a litter of puppies, we were short handed on drivers for awhile and that one just never went out.  The next thing we knew a pregnant dog had moved in and had a litter in there.  Any time you were in Bitch you knew that something odd was going to happen.  I had a great fare once in her, big tipper had me drive all over town for business and then he gets out on his last stop.  Picture this; there is a big wad of cash in his hand, I can see three hundreds plus twenties and tens, he's telling me to keep the change when the damn motorcycle rider goes up on the sidewalk and clips him.  It was like in a movie, the money is flying in slow motion away from me and because of the motorcycle rider my fare is bleeding all over my cab.  I get out and try to grab some cash but the wind was blowing too fast.  I couldn't leave because of the cops, I was a witness and all, and when I finally got back to the garage I had to clean his blood off of it.  Now I hate Bitch more because some new driver had her earlier and it smelled like chili.  I hated chili when I was a kid and now I hate it even more.  And for the past four years I've been a vegetarian and the smell was getting to me.

I'm going to see my part time boss to see if he has any extra work for me.  Of course I have all of this spare time because my girlfriend dumped me last week.  Thanks, bitch.  Damn, I miss her still.  He does and I get a rental because it might get a little messy and that little trick will keep the police an extra step away.  What's the job you ask?  Some hood was skimming so he's being taught a lesson.  Actually, he was already taught the lesson.  Now the other hoods are taught the lesson when this hood disappears.  My job is to dump the body.

The body is already wrapped up in trash bags and stuffed in the trunk, easy.  Should be the highlight of the day.

Nope.

No one put any weights on the body and I didn't notice until it was already in the water.  Now I have to go back to the car and get some tools and then I have to wade back to the body.  Son of a bitch, when will this day end?  My shoes and socks will be soaked, my pants will be wet who knows how high.  Should I take off my shoes and socks and then roll up my pants before I wade in?  Damn amateurs, didn't even weigh down the body and I have to do the extra work for it.

CRUNCH

WHAT THE FUCK!  I'm going to clean up the last of the job and I wake up in some guys kitchen.  I'm tied up and he's done a better job than anyone working for my boss.  I don't know if he's talking to me or to himself but what the hell?  He's noticed I'm awake and he's asking me questions.  His first question is "Do you like chili?"  SON. OF. A. BITCH.

You can call this a prequel to yesterdays story.

Before dinner.

There I am, just minding my own business.  I'm in my truck with my normal load just ready to unload it and get back home to a nice cold beer and the chili I've been cooking, no beans of course because I ain't no Yankee.  Then I see him.

He's dumping trash in my lake.  Well, it's not really my lake, it belongs to the county but I've been coming here more years than I wish to admit to doing my business.  And this guy is dumping trash in it.  I should say something but I don't think he'll appreciate it.  I'm not going to call the police either, they can't stop people from dumping trash unless they see it.  So I do the only logical thing.

I grab some of my trash, a big piece, and I wait for him to go back to his car (he brought a car to this lake, what an amateur) and sneak up behind him.  Growing up in the country taught me how to sneak around in the wild and not going to college when we had a draft taught me how to get behind people, especially when they are being paranoid.  I clubbed him over the head with my trash.

It's an amazing thing, the human femur is a great club.  I'm sorry I can't properly introduce you, the trash had a name at some time, it's...well, I guess that doesn't really matter now.  I have my hunting equipment in my truck so I use that on this guy before he wakes up.

I look over to where he was dumping his trash and I shake my head in disgust.  His trash isn't even under water.  Did he weigh it down?  Did he put some small holes in the trash bags so the water would weigh it down?  No to both.  Damn amateurs making us pros look bad.  Now, instead of going home and having a nice meal I have to clean up after him.  I clean up his mess without a problem, he could have done the same thing if he wasn't so lazy.  Damn amateurs.

I don't worry about weighing down my trash, bones don't float.  What do I do about this guy?  He does look pretty good.  My tastes normally run to a different look, but I'm pretty open minded, something else I learned in 'Nam.  I check out his car (I still can't believe that he brought a car here, it doesn't even have four wheel drive), it's a rental and his wallet just has the usual yuppie crap in it.

He doesn't have a wedding ring on or the tan line of where he took it off.  That decides me, I don't have to worry about a wife pestering the cops to find her darling hubby.  This guy just became my new dinner guest, I hope he likes my chili.  Doesn't really matter though.  He'll eat it if he wants anything to eat and of course when the conversations get boring then he'll become my new trash.

He's a yuppie, I wonder if he'll want anything special in his recipe when I make him into chili.  He better remember though, I ain't no Yankee, he better not want any beans.

My latest foray into short fiction.  I wanted a little humor in this one.  Inspired by the family I saw at the lake today.  The look they gave me told me it was their lake.

My view on the Presidency.

My background is business.  The smaller the company the more the owner/president/top dog has to do.  The bigger the organization the less they do hands on but the more they do in a visionary and motivational position.

That's what I think all presidents should do, motivate the American people.  I'm not going to get into my views of our past few presidents but I don't think any of them have really tried to motivate anyone.  Decades ago one president said "it's not what your can do country can do for you, what can you do for your country?".  So true.

My way of doing something for my country is to create things and sell them, someone else might invent something, and some bored person might increase our understanding of fractals.  What's your way to do something for your country?

Greed Kills.

Flip side tonight.  Check it out here.

Little rants.

On Facebook today I found a page about bartenders hating customers.  Hello there.  I was a bartender and I sure as hell hated my customers.  Guests and clients are a different species altogether.

Customers do the stupid things like ask what kinds of beer do you have and ask you to repeat it twice and then order a Bud Light.  If you drink Bud Light then you probably don't want anything else so why are you even asking?  Maybe I'll get lucky and you might try something that a friend told you about and you're just checking to see if we have it.  Maybe.  Then why do you do it each time I get your order?  Or when I have a packed bar that's three people deep?  They want less ice because they think it will make the drink stronger.  Complete opposite actually.  They'll go into a bar and ask for the tv to be changed to a news channel.  I'm all for news instead of sports but this happened on Super Bowl Sunday.  Good luck with that.

Clients are the professionals (I don't mean professional like in a suit and tie, I mean like they are respectful of your time and profession), we love serving them.  Guests are the ones that we feel bad about charging.  You always feel bad about charging friends.

A trip to a haunted house.

My kid and I were sitting at the end of the haunted house where they sell you drinks and snacks.  We were still close enough that we could here some screams and giggles from the haunted house.  We were both drinking chocolate milk when the owner or manager came by.  He shook my hand and thanked us for coming out to his haunted house and asked us how we liked it.

My kid went crazy telling him how cool it was.  He was talking like I was feeding him Red Bull.  He started talking about the vampire then he would tell you about the mummy then he would remember something else about the vampire and tell you that.  The owner knew how to deal with kids, he would get down to their level and he was patient, I bet that my kid wasn't the first one that went crazy talking about everything he saw.

When my kid needed to breathe I told the owner how I liked the performance.  I liked how the performers never went out of character and they did some subtle things for the parents to notice so our kids could see us frightened and we could relive the thrill we had when we were kids.  I told him how I wasn't scared by the normal monsters but I was really bothered by the "serial killer" (I even used air quotes with my fingers) character.  He was pleased that his people did their job well and he asked me what he did that really got me.
As I said:  subtle.  He ignored us.  He was dragging another performer by her costume to a back room.  The girl was pretending to be asleep; I did a little acting in college and I know that's harder than you think.  Even the baseball bat he was carrying had some fake blood on it.  What do you use?  That would be fun to play a joke on a buddy of mine at work.

He was saying that they don't have any acts like that when we heard the real screaming.

Short fiction piece done by me.  Thought up the idea today and finished it a few hours later.  How the hell do professionals do this?

Subtlety.

I'm all for subtlety.  When I was bartending I was known for three drinks; Martinis, Long Island Iced Teas, and Bloody Marys.  My Long Islands were strong but didn't taste that way, it wasn't until you got up that you realized how strong they were.  My Mary mix was not subtle at all, the formula I used I may even post someday.  My martini however was subtle.

If you don't know about martinis here's a primer.  A martini is a shot of gin with a bit of dry vermouth, put an olive in it and you're done.  When someone wants a dry martini that means no vermouth, just a shot of gin (or if you're younger you order vodka).  Straight up (or up) means chilled and served without ice, on the rocks means served over ice.  Really pretty simple until you get into the Appletini or Chocolatini or the other flavored martinis.

I used to make my martinis the way everyone else did, chill the glass and pour the gin and vermouth in a shaker tin and then shake to chill it, dump out the ice and pour the drink into the glass.  Then I'm at some bar and I see a bartender make one a little differently.  I asked her why she did it the way she did, she told me and I tipped her.  Then I started doing it the same way.

Her trick was to chill the glass as usual, pour the gin in a shaker glass and swirl it instead of shaking it.  When done swirling the gin pour out the ice and pour into the martini glass some dry vermouth.  Swirl that around the glass and then dump the excess.  Now you can finally pour the gin into the glass.  Add garnish as usual.

I had a regular customer customer that came in and would occasionally order martinis, he became my guinea pig.  I told him that I was going to make him a martini, if he liked it more than a regular martini then it would go on his tab.  If not then I would buy it for him.  It went on his tab and he became a regular martini drinker then.

Promoting from within.

Over on the flip side.  Check it out here.

The government shutdown.

Right now the government is threatening to shut down their services if the budget isn't passed or something along those lines.  We are $16 TRILLION in debt, maybe it should have been shutdown some time ago.  Congress strikes me like the butt of the old joke:  "How can my checking account be overdrawn?  I still have checks."  It's our own fault, we vote in the same clowns year after year.  Some things I want you to ponder on for the evening:

Item 1:  The United States Postal Service.  For some things they are beyond compare, you want to mail a letter or a postcard to your friend next door or thousands of mile away and it's under 50 cents.  Try that with UPS or FedEx.  Supposedly their is some law passed so those two can't compete with the USPS.  If so I think we need to lose that law.  If the big two start competing with the USPS on a level playing field who would win?  Us people that are mailing things. 

Item 2:  Obamacare.  How about instead of force feeding us a product wouldn't it be better to let all of the insurance companies operate in all of the states?  Right now their is only a handful of companies I can choose from in Texas.  If all of the other companies can come here and sell wouldn't prices go down?  

Item 3:  Voter ID.  Why is it considered racist to have someone prove who they are when they vote?  There are so many other things that you have to show id for but none of those are considered racist.  I still haven't quite figured that one out.

Item 4:  Media.  "If it bleeds it leads."  What kind of business model is that?  If the gas prices go up then they talk about that, when they go down they don't mention it at all.  The media reminds me of dancers that just want to cause drama.  Those dancers didn't last long at my clubs.

Item 5:  IRS.  If you have a question with doing your taxes the IRS has a phone number to call.  They are even nice enough to tell you that if they are wrong then they are not responsible for the mistake.  The tax code is huge so I understand why someone might not know everything about their financial situation, but why doesn't the IRS?  If we make a mistake they come for us without a problem but if they make a mistake then it's our problem.

All of these issues make me wonder on a daily basis.  Maybe they will make you wonder also.