Gap assholes?

My real function in life is being an I/T guy. But for all my ability to masquerade as a d.b.a. or write zillions of lines of code, I am really pretty lame when it comes to being internet savvy. Yep – I have no idea why I shouldn’t be on Blogger or why I should use Firefox. I am super impressed by the knowledge of the bloggers I read daily. They know shit. Impressive shit.

When I first started in what would eventually be my career (long before Al Gore invented the Internet), I was known as a geeky guy. I could program modems, do anything in Unix, knew several languages and had no problems doing low-level formats and rebuilding PCs. The advent of “plug and play” technology made me lazy. Now I have to go ask a 25 year old kid how to use VPN. It’s sad. And I don’t have high-speed at home. I still use a dial-up – although I no longer use my dial-up because some pr()n site dropped a freaking bothersome pop-up on my home PC, and my SpyBot can’t find it (although it did manage to kill my analog video input) and it takes way too long to update my definition files.

So as far as blogging goes, I am a mere babe in the woods. My technological zenith seems to be Statcounter. That being said, I really enjoy keyword activity.

gap assholes. Do we mean asshole clerks at The Gap? Or were we looking for gaping rectums filled with man goo?

gap her ass latina. This was from Kuwait. This almost has to be from some lonely G.I. posted over there. Tired of viewing women in hijabs?

sweet potato girls of jackson Mississippi. Is that you, deadpanann?

i'm so pretty lyrics. This has to be from Hillbilly Mom. Perhaps not finding what she was looking for, she then tried lyrics to i'm so pretty in west side story?

rita moreno stripper. This was from the U.K. I mean as long as we’re talking about West Side Story. Although I remember Rita Moreno from PBS’ “The Electric Company” (along with Morgan Freeman, I might add!) But Rita, while still hot (I'm sure), is kind of old to be stripping. Perhaps this person was looking for something to remove the previously applied "Rita Moreno Varnish"?

shaun and christina dillard. My favorite assholes. I hope whoever did this search found the pictures of those to crackhead-shithole-scumbag-motherfuckers!

ashley andrews picayune. The 12 year old victim of the aforementioned cocksuckers Shaun and Christina Dillard.

mississippi strip club shut down. Sounds like a Flatt and Scruggs song. Ahem... Well, I thought it was a funny joke!

amputee. From Norway. Sing it, Tom Petty style! “Now baby you don’t… have… to search for an amputee (don’t have to search for an amputee)”

I'm going to hell, I'm sure!

Don't EVEN think about messing with me!

I have friends in high places.

Today I received a letter. Well, I didn’t really receive it… The actual addressing on the envelope was to “Someone connected with this household”. But it was meant for me, since I pay the mortgage. Anyway, it’s from a very, very old and established church. 55 years established, they are. They point it out twice, so I know it’s important.

So, the Saint Matthews Churches (“Friends of Jesus for 55 glorious years of service”) cares enough about me to send me an anointed prayer rug. Well, it’s not really a rug per se… It’s actually an 11x17 paper image of the Jesus with his eyes closed. Or are they? The letter says that if you use this rug and stare at the face, the eyes will open. Oooohhhh! Creepy! Oh – and they aren’t giving it to me. They are loaning it to me. And I can only use it tonight. Then I have to send it back with my money. I also have a checklist of prayer options:

My soul
A closer walk with Jesus
My health
A family member’s health
Confusion in my home (Praying to have more confusion?)
My children
To stop a bad habit
A better job
A home to call my own
A new car
A money blessing
I want to be saved
Pray for God to bless me with this amount of money: $_______
Please, especially pray for this person: ___________

Enclosed is my seed gift to God’s work of $_____________

SAINT MATTHEWS CHURCH MUST HAVE THIS PRAYER RUG BACK. PLEASE DO NOT MISPLACE IT. IT MUST GO TO ANOTHER HOME AFTER YOU USE IT.

These next 24 hours are crucial to you. Timing is important to God. (He’s a busy dude) After you kneel on this Church Prayer Rug, or place it over your knees (what if I am an amputee?), place it in a Bible (oh, okay) on Phillipeans 4:19. If you don’t have a Bible, it’s okay – just slide it under your side of the bed, for tonight, if you can. (So you homeless people, don’t even bother!) God sees. Then, in the morning it is a must that you get this unusual blessing prayer rug out of this house and back to us, here at the church’s chapel prayer room, in faith. We must also have this letter back, with whatever you need prayer for, printed on page 2. You must get this prayer rug back to us so we can rush it onto another family that’s in need of a blessing.

Please do not try to pray by yourself. Even though God sees you, we are professionals here. After all, we've been doing this for 55 years! We will make sure that your money gets to him. But please do not try to pray without this valuable tool we are loaning you out of the goodness of our hearts. Without our help, you will not get what you rightly deserve. So help us to help you. You know that God will only answer the prayers of those that have proven to him that they believe, and nothing says believe like cold, hard cash. No checks please. Paypal accepted as well. And if you don't get what you think you deserve, then your faith is just not good enough and you should be ashamed of yourself!

Fun at the office.

The company recently sprung for me to get a new superbad PC (and I am indeed grateful) that is now running XP. My old box was running 2000, if you care. We use Office 2003, and Outlook is our mail client. Although there will not be a test, this will be important later.

For Valentine’s Day, I bought my significant other a large gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret. If I had readers, I would expect some females to be offended by the previous statement, and yet others would be thinking what a wonderful lad I was. She is in the second category. Much to my delight, I might add.

So Monday night, she asked me to go with her to Victoria’s to look at/buy stuff. Woohoo! Well, needless to say the local VS stores have a limited supply of stuff. Is it because we are in the so-called “Bible Belt”? Is it because our market area is not very populous so they decided not to build big stores? I have no clue. But our search yielded a cute pair of pajama pants and a couple of try-ons that thrilled me no end! Otherwise, there was surprisingly little stuff that she liked AND that fit AND was the correct color.

Yesterday, she sent me a link to the VS website selection with the heading “Do you like any of these?” I was unable to peruse then, so this morning I checked them out during my first cup of coffee. (I must say here that I love this woman more than life itself, and she’s got one helluva a great attitude. I certainly don’t deserve anyone that treats me the way she does, but I’m going to enjoy it until she comes to her senses!!!!!) So I sent back a couple of choices, along with some jokingly bawdy comments about how I thought she would look and the outcome of wearing these in front of me etc… You know - guy stuff! Then about an hour later, she sends another message. The subject line of this message is equally jokingly bawdy - “Just how bad do you want me?” and there are 3 links to some more VS items at the top of the page. (I should also point out here that my New Mail notification is Homer Simpson saying “WooHoo!”)

Unfortunately, 30 minutes prior to this, I started moderating a Net Meeting with some folks at my company and one of our sister companies. Since I was the “leader”, I had my desktop shared. You would think that since I keep my Outlook client minimized, we would be safe – just a “WooHoo!” and a mail icon popping up. But as you Outlook users know, a new feature of Outlook 2003 is the little blue ghost box that pops up above the systray with the email icon, Sender’s Name, Subject line and the first 50 or so characters of the message body. It hovers there for a few seconds and then sort of fades away.

I am now a legend, and they think my girlfriend’s a slut!

Those people...

People suck. That’s all there is to it. This is why I have cats. I hold animals in much higher regard than most people (except for my girlfriend and a handful of pals/family). Oh - and the people on my blogroll!

On a recent business trip to New Jersey, I got to deal with New Jerseyans. ‘nuff said. Actually, the few people that tried to be assholes actually melted a little when I would thank them for services rendered, or say good morning. (Yes, I am a rube – it’s been a while since I went to the city!)

I also had to contend with a traveling partner that makes Sylvia Plath seem like Powerpuff Girl Bubbles. She told me right out she doesn’t like gay people. I sensed (but can’t prove) that she doesn’t care for black people. She uses the term "those people" way to much for my tastes! And she is just a freakin’ thundercloud of negative energy. Some examples:

Example #1
(Sitting in Hartsfield watching a couple with 2 very young kids go by)
MB: Wow. You have to really “want it” to fly with 2 children.
TP: Well, some people have to travel across the country, and that’s tough to do without flying because blah blah blah (insert several very good and obvious reasons why traveling cross country with kids in an automobile is less desirable than air travel).

Example #2
(Upon returning from a food joint with my lunch after having told her I was going and she offered to watch the bags)
TP: I’m getting pretty hungry.
MB: Why don’t you go to the food court?
TP: Well I wasn’t going leave the bags unattended!!!

So on example #1 I certainly did not say “People that travel in airplanes with kids suck and should be euthanized in the town square!” My point was that it is a commitment, and a difficult one. Kudos to the traveling family. But I hope your baby doesn’t sit in front of me on a two hour flight. Fair enough? And on example #2, I’m pretty sure I didn’t say “You stupid bitch! If you’re hungry, why didn’t you go get something to eat and shut the fuck up!” I think I was merely saying “well I am back now so why not take the time now to go peruse the savory offerings of airport fare”.

She also keeps haunting me by showing up in my office and telling me something else I should have done in a way contrary to the way I actually did it, be it responding to a phone call that she was listening to my end from the next room, or selecting a restaurant for lunch. She is like herpes.

Now people are spilling willy-nilly into my town. I learned the other day that we have the fourth largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in the nation. I’ve been to Savannah’s (#2), but I just don’t see our little parade being number 4. But it’s been around for 20 years, so it’s got staying power. And the Sweet Potato Queens. So now I have to put up with more out-of-town assholes. It’s been a tough week, and I apologize for not posting much this month. I promise I will do better.

In the meantime, I am going to rent a plane in an hour and fly over to the town where my girlfriend works, pick her up from work and fly her back here (after doing some sightseeing). It’s her birthday. And there aren't many people up there. Of course, I won't be able to take her out to dinner upon our return because every restaurant here will be filled to capacity with out-of-towners!!!

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, y’all!

Sense of smell

I am sort of misplaced in the South. I am mostly democratic in my views. Actually, partisan politics make me vomit. My dad (a staunch conservative) and I debated endlessly on many topics. It fascinated him that I would actually tell people I voted for Bill Clinton not once, but twice. But one point we agreed on was guns. While I do not think that one day the government will kick in my door and take all my guns (as he did), I don’t see any problem with them in the hands of responsible people. My friends have a hard time reconciling the fact that I possess many weapons. (Actually, I only had one gun until my father passed away and I got his massive collection.) I don’t like to hunt, so people think I have them just so I can kill burglars. So be it.

Yesterday, I took my girlfriend out for the truly Southern sport of “shootin’”. Being from a foreign land, guns are, to her, mysterious and American and fascinating. As she is also brilliant, I was not surprised that she grasped the concept of gun safety quickly. Some people are scared of guns. Some people are idiotically stupid with them. She has a healthy respect for them. She is also, I learned, a super bad-ass shot with a .45 auto!

As she is 5 foot nothing, I started her off with a little baby .22 with little baby .22 shorts in it. With the hearing protection on, they sound like breaking a twig. Then we moved up to the .22 LR, about twice the size. A little louder, a little more kick (barley). She learned quickly about sight pictures, breathing, trajectories (well, she IS a math teacher) and wind effect. She was scared and thrilled at the beginning. She was shooting from a bench rest and as she would bring the hammer down on an empty, there would be no trace of flinching - an apt pupil, indeed.

Then, a good old boy that we had been chatting with at the range offered to let her fire his “piece”, a tiny Glock .40 with some light hand-loads that would not be too hard on her. After a magazine full of those, I decided we would skip the .32 auto I had planned for the next step, and progress immediately to the .45 auto. With her second shot she hit a 2 inch fragment of clay pigeon that I had set up 20 yards away. She has the ejected shell casing as her trophy.

We stayed for a few hours. I was able to relieve lots of stress with the .357 and .44 magnums, the .45 and a couple of .32s. I also impressed the shit out of her with my marksmanship. I just could not bring myself to confess to her that, as I had not been shooting in several years, my display of accuracy was just as easily attributed to dumb luck. Then we shot a lot of .22 rapid fire in a little semi-auto rifle and called it a day.

During the ceremonial “cleansing of the guns” that followed later, I mentioned how all day long the smell of spent gunpowder and ejected brass and then the scent of bore cleaners, solvents and machine oil brought back so many vivid memories of my dad. At several points throughout the day, I would be having flashbacks and not even be aware of it. They were vivid and real and very pleasant.

We talked about how smells did that to people, and I was reminded of a certain smell. I don’t know what the smell is, but when it hits me, I am projected back to my grandparent’s house. I am young and wearing Sunday clothes that itch as only Sunday clothes in the late sixties could. I'm sure they were some type of wool! The house is uncomfortably warm and dark. The silence would be complete save for a large clock ticking interminably. The experience is not completely unpleasant – I just have no idea what’s going to happen next. Will I eat Sunday lunch? Will I be spanked for some transgression? I have no clue. But whatever the smell is, it hypnotizes me.

Hmmm...

Rather Experienced You are 57% pure!

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 65% on purity

Link: The 100 Point Sexual Purity Test written by ocicat on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test