Today Was Open Mouth Ankle Surgery Day

Ever been to the dentist and felt like there was a secret bet whether they could get a basketball in there? Those who know me realize that I have a big mouth (in my big head) and fitting a volleyball might be possible.

 

So today was the day for a new dentist. The last dentist stopped taking the crappy insurance, so it was a giant hassle dealing with that.

 

So, Princess Sassy Pants, Shaggy, and Teenwolf joined me on the new dentist frontier. To add a degree of difficulty to the ordinary, I decided to lick my pollen coated car several dozen times and give myself a sinus infection, yeah!

 

 

 

New dentist does some stuff different, like 2 people working on me at the same time. The "helper" was "on suction" and I gotta say, I don't think I have any saliva left in my stomach, let alone my mouth. That many instruments in my big trap wasn't too pleasant. I gotta say that gone was "Mr. Slurpee" whose bent neck gently pulls out the spittle in the front. Nope, we got the "Shop Vac" treatment and the dentist commented on my lunch. I assumed she was referring to something stuck between my teeth, but she assured me that wasn't it.

 

 

Now I don't brush on a schedule, but when I do I brush too vigorously, oh and I drink too much soda and have receding gums from some combination therein. I have also never had a cavity in my life....

 

Until today!

 

So the joyful word is that my 3 cavities will only take 2 visits to fix. They are between my teeth (aren't there supposed to be "cavities" between them?) and they merely have to drill from the top to get to the sides... WHAT? That is as far as we have come as a dental aware society? "I'm sorry, sir, we're going to have to put you down."

 

Thanks to some wonderful genetics, the kids are all missing some of their adult teeth (as in never coming in) so they need to figure that out for PSP as she has some decay on baby teeth. PSP being far more meticulous about dental hygiene than her brothers, I am full expecting that one of them will require dentures.

 

Teenwolf has reported in and the word is 12 cavities. 12! Apparently he sets an alarm to wake himself up every hour to replace the sugar water soaked cotton balls in his mouth. We also found out that he was never taught to floss. Apparently he gets the floss in there and does a see-saw of pulling back and forth. That might explain him using an up and down motion when buffing his shoes.

Shaggy has also reported in with 3 more cavities. So for those of you counting and unable to scroll up to check your work, that is:

PSP - 1 iffy molar that they will seal and 1 possible baby tooth with decay that might not have a replacement.

Shaggy - 3 cavities on baby teeth that likely aren't being replaced.

Teenwolf - 12 cavities

Master Mynd - 3 cavities.

 

Since it has only been 8 months since our last visit to a dentist, I feel like either our last dentist had no clue or this one doesn't. OR

They've secretly replaced our fluoride injected water with sugar injected water. OR

There is a smudge on the X-ray machine, you know like when they tell you there is a tumor? (It's not a TUMA!)

 

I officially hate the dentist. (yes, I realize that I write a lot of dental posts)

And the sinus headache / infection is keeping me in bed, you'd think shopvac girl could have helped me out. (my sinus problem! perverts!)

People Who Eat in Cars!?

Perhaps you've seen this phenomenon?

Frankly, it never made my radar. If I even noticed, it never caused the synapses to fire the question. As with all great (and frustrating) things in my world, Mrs. Mynd brought this to my attention. Mrs. Mynd who would rather "deliver her message in person" than guest blog. Since I don't think she'll be visiting each of you individually, I decided to write this.

I'm going to try really hard to make this not sound like Andy Rooney's "ever wonder why?"

So, you pull into the shopping center. Your list has you picking up some prescriptions, grabbing your shirts at the dry cleaner, and looking for a new Pinot at the liquor store. You choose a parking spot that allows you to make a nice walking loop and places you outside the local pizza joint. As you exit your car, you look over and see a person sitting in the next car...eating pizza.

Now, I'm already mentally excusing this behavior, but Mrs. Mynd is not able to simply let it go. And now, neither am I.

What is their deal? With the advent of WiFi in nearly every eatery and coffee joint, why wouldn't you eat in the eatery? Isn't that why they call it an "eatery?" So we have some theories that we need your help to determine which option is the most likely.

1. They are working. In today's fast paced world, you don't have time to sit around, right? Food on the go is the norm. Well, since there was no drive-thru at the pizza place, umm they went in. So why not eat IN the pizza place. They have seating. And bathrooms.

2. How about... they are working? Gotta eat something on the way from client number one to client number two. We certainly understand the fast paced world where nothing stops in the (insert here whatever it is that you do) world... yeah. Did I mention you're sitting in a parking lot? You're not on your way to the next client. The only thing you're making you're way to is your next slice of za.

3. Clearly, they are on a stakeout. I imagine that they are watching dangerous criminal types who are up to nefarious plans... Plans which involve picking up dry cleaning? Blending in to the background by eating pizza in their car, they are obviously able to escape the notice of all but Mrs. Mynd. They are so good at this that you don't see the binoculars, the camera with high powered lens, the listening gear, and of course the tranquilizer dart gun. Except for the obviously smudgy out of shape body sitting like an iceberg with most of its mass below the surface of the car window, this is a plausible explanation.

4. Their car is worth more than their house and they are entertaining guests. With most of their liquidity of asset tied up in the 5 wheeled abode, pizza may be all they can afford...but their "entertainment system" is totally slammin. I know this seems implausible to many who consider it sacrilege to eat in the car and risk any kind of sauce on the upholstery.

5. Obviously they are on a diet. They are sneaking the pizza to avoid the tofuti that their spouse is force feeding them at home. They can arrive home well fed and proclaim how great the diet is going and that they can simply skip dinner in order to shed a few more pounds, and when I say a few more I mean none. By eating in the car, they can avoid interacting with anyone they may know, it's the fat guy's adult book store.

6. Lastly, Mrs. Mynd feels they are doing what she does...keeping it all to herself. Why bring home something yummy that the kids are just going to bug her about to no end, then leave the wrappers and napkins and crumbs on some inappropriate table or couch, which in turn begs the dogs to move in to thoroughly bathe the couch in doggy tongue love. This is unless there is mint of any kind involved whereby the cats move in for a good roll around to bathe themselves in the minty goodness. (sometimes followed by the doggy tongue bath, which nobody wants)... Hey! Wait a minute!

I don't know, Mrs. Mynd has an eye for the odd, which does explain a lot.

So has this phenomenon caught your eye? 

Have you participated? 

(it's ok, we'll blame peer pressure!)

My Peter Furler Moment

Seriously...

Many of my loyal readers have no idea who Peter Furler is, and I will leave that to your Googling (because some work you have to do on your own) but suffice it to say, this is one unintentionally scarey dude.

I say unintentionally because after your aforementioned Googling, you will realize that this guy does not want to scare you, despite his impishly evil grin pictured here.

So beyond TRYING to run into him at a 7-11 near where he was at one time, I have seen him with other people, but nothing up close and personal.

Until the other day...

So, I'm standing in my local Ace hardware, where I am revered as a client. I have the unique ability to envision ways to screw up a project, yet at the same time NOT actually plan ahead for said screw ups. They get to see me quite often.

I had had a discussion with one of my many admirers cleverly disguised as an Ace employee. I was in the process of checking out and chatting with Mrs Mynd.

Thinking my friend had come to discuss another of the finer points of my really bad home improvement plan, I wasn't surprised to peripherally see someone lean against the counter to my right.

When I turned, however, a slightly ghoulish bald headed man that I had not expected was the leaner and he was looking at me. Now, I am sure he was simply waiting his turn, all the while admiring the purchases that would inevitably lead to repeated trips to my Ace, but that wasn't what my eyes told me on first glance.

Suffice it to say, the bald head and intense stare was enough to conjure images of Mr. Furler and cause me to startle. Mrs. Mynd indicated that my start was not enough to draw her attention, but I felt as if I had seen a ghost and the startle was like a wet juicy one in church.

Difficult as it is to believe, my balding leaner was not Mr. Furler or anyone of import outside his own mind.

Beyond watching then Capitals player, now Capitals coach Dale Hunter buying beer, I have not had too many celebrity run ins.

Have you ever had any close encounters of the famous kind?

 

 

Photo Challenge Photos

In random order, here are the submitted photos:

In reality, my idea was over run with great photos, most of which we're posted elsewhere. I have augmented them with a few of my own. I may go crazy and use several of them... in one or more posts.

 

I am a man of my word, so here are those submitted and I will give you the opportunity to view them without the bias of my fantastic commentary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scar! Scar! S-C-A-R

Normally I'm rockin the funny, maybe a rant or two. This time around, I'm bringing something new. Fair warning is issued for the squeamish, there will be needles, blood and did I mention needles?

 

This is a story about a scar, a procedure, and a valiant woman or two.

Not long ago, Mrs. Mynd had a radical procedure on her body called a Neurectomy. She had been bothered by a pain in her foot for quite a while and no orthotic molds or creams or therapy were making it any better. The doctors decided to remove the nerve in her foot that was most affected, in hopes that her pain would be relieved. Obviously, the pain was caused by me getting on her last nerve, but I wasn't going anywhere. So under the knife she went.

One might think that removing a nerve would be a painless procedure, I mean...you're removing the thing that sends pain messages to the noggin. One would be wrong in this assumption, heck two would even be wrong... twice as wrong. Lots of pain, with lots of nice drugs and lots of ice was the recipe for relief.

Apparently, Mrs. Mynd comes from a lineage wrought with scar building experience. Her brother and sister both create some gruesome scars, so naturally their older sister couldn't be outdone. This is where you come in to the story...

Because of this scar tissue building skillz, Mrs. Mynd developed a wonderful reminder of her surgery. So large was her scar that she felt that it might pull itself open. When she was seen by the doctor, he said that indeed it would have pulled itself open if left alone. Thus began a rude course of treatment that you will be privy to shortly. Now, I was not present for the initial treatment as it was performed on the way home from her Girls Weekend. I will commend Lainey for taking the first hit, almost literally.

Last weekend began with a visit to the doctor for a second treatment that Mrs. Mynd was not looking forward to getting. The pictures will tell a large part of the story with some additional of my blathering.

This is Dr. Tim, mild mannered evil...

Dr. Tim is a friend of the family and upon our being taken to the back, I asked if he minded if I took a photograph before and after the procedure. He was more than willing and added that I could take as many pictures as I wanted and as some of the later shots show, he has a twisted sense of the macabre. Mrs. Mynd immediately asked the most popular question lately... "You're going to blog about this aren't you?"

 

Umm, ye-heh! My readers are due a good sick evil needle laden post.

This is the SCAR, it is not a butt.

This is the sexy heel of Mrs. Mynd. It is not a flat buttocks area. This is as tame as the pictures are going to be, so turn away now if you are inclined. I would offer you the shots of Jameson and six packs of Samuel Adams that Dr. Tim offered us, but you people would take me up on it and I can't be shipping shots and beer bottles... Expensive and probably illegal it is!

This is the Cold Spray
meant to allow easy needling

Yes, you can pick up the cold spray at most pharmacy counters. It is great stuff for a kids boo-boo. I think Mrs. Mynd would say that it only makes the needle stick less surprising, the pain is still there. So, in case you're behind... Cold spray to allow the...

This is the Lidocaine to "block" the pain.

Lidocaine "block" is supposed to create a little offensive line to prevent the pain from sacking the brain. Of course, nothing says pain like when the offensive lineman show up and sit on you as part of the experience. The super fun part is when the lidocaine is injected it creates a little bubble, that you watch slowly disappear. So, cold spray allows the needle which leads to....

This is the Betadine,
not a bloody earthworm

All numbed up doesn't mean you can't feel anything. Much test pushing and poking is required, which by the amount of Betadine you would believe was being done with a rusty nail or a broken bottle. It was at this point that Dr. Tim was injecting the conversation with all manner of medical jargon about skin stress lines, which you are supposed to cut along because then the skin doesn't pull. Apparently, they couldn't do that here else the job would have been half done. We pointed out that a procedure to remove a nerve, shouldn't hurt at all, let alone more after the procedure than before. There was more medical jargon here, but frankly put it to a beat and it sounds like an Eminem rap. It made that much sense to me. Now, you can probably see the next picture and frankly all previous warnings are repeated (which makes many of you eagerly turn the proverbial page!) Cold spray allows Lidocaine block producing Betadine covered pin cushion which leads to...

This is the needle for the 'roids
(Ster, not Hem)

 

Holy Hot Pockets of Hot Pokers! You're gonna what? Hook up the garden hose to the root waterer and jam that in my foot like the yard guy back from a liquid lunch? When the doctor banters around the words "Steroids "and "Toxic" your dreams of Olympic glory are crushed and usually that is delivered in an enema sized needle. So, Cold spray, Lidocaine block, Betadine poke, Big root watering needle can only mean...

This is the "Juice"

Dr. Tim is really putting on a show for the good boys and girls of Myndville. Can you hear the Igor voice and the evil laughter? I could. Two of Jose Canseco's favorites were mixed together in the syringe. I'd like to say I remember the names, but I went all Barry Bonds for a few minutes there. So... Cold, Lidocaine, Betadine, Roots, Juice can only conclude with...

Really... Turn away now!

 

Ouch!

Umm, did I mention that Mrs. Mynd curses like an Italian sailor on shore leave after a pitcher of ale? Apparently she does. I wasn't privy to the epicness of what was heard to visit number one. Word is Lainey is still hearing it in her dreams. One visit was enough for this tough girl to know what to expect and despite her desire to let the poor, evil Dr. Tim have it with both barrels and a heel full of fun, she was quiet and demure and even stoic for her honey. (that's me) It could be that she was loopy from the "block."

 

This is the wrap-up!

And that's a wrap! I hope you enjoyed the story more than Mrs. Mynd enjoyed the experience. A week and half or so before we lather, rinse, repeat...

 

In case you were thirsting for more gore, here is the post operative photo...

 

 

 

The Reality of Reality TV

My fellow blogger and buddy Youngman Brown recently posted about his love of The Bachelor and his understanding of its affect on his Man Card.

 

I don't get it. Not even a little bit. I'm waiting for the day that they come out with a reality show about reality shows.

Announcer Voice:

...Trapped in a house, 20 contestants will be forced to watch reality TV like American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, The Bachelor, Survivor, The Voice, and Jersey Shore.

 

Contestants that fall asleep will be forced to watch Jerry Springer or be removed from the house. Points are taken away for any cursing or questioning of said shows.

 

Contestants who are removed from the house can bid with fellow removees on getting back in the house, they will bid on a TLC and A&E reality show and the number of hours that they will watch it straight to remain in the reality house. Shows such as Hoarders, Gene Simmons Family Jewels, or Monster In-Laws on A&E as well as My 600lb Life, 19 Kids and Counting, and Toddlers and Tiaras on TLC are just some of the shows contestants can bid to watch to stay on the show.

 

So do I have a hit?

 

Save the Dead Dinosaurs!

Or a Rage Against the AT&T Machine!

"You need a data plan for an iPhone," the minimum wage shill for AT&T tells me.

Me: Why?

Shill: Because you have an iPhone and you need a data plan.

Me: But I don't need data.

Shill: a data plan is required for an iPhone.

 

I've Got Internet in My Pocket and Am Happy to See You!

Not too long ago, Mrs. Mynd upgraded from an older 8GB iPhone 3 to a new iPhone 4S. As you might imagine, this turned Shaggy into an iPhone begging machine. We had no intention of arming a 14 year old with an iPhone and data plan.

I'm sure that all the Porn YouTube homework that won't get done as a result of my 14 year old not having the internet in his pocket at all times is considerable, and of course, my fault.

At a coincidentally well timed karmic time, Princess Sassy Pants had her iPod die. It was a 2GB model that we got from eBay 2 years ago and it was slowly dying in many ways. It reached its end around this same time.

In a moment of pure brilliance and selflessness, Shaggy suggested that he would willingly trade his iPod to his sister and use the iPhone as an iPod touch. He would be able to use it as his iPod, while using the wifi in the house to use educational games and productivity apps. He really is a brilliant and generous child.

As if to add to all the cosmic karma, Shaggy was eligible for an upgrade to his LG Neon phone. Because he was limited on our plan without a data plan, his selections from what can only be described as the "the plan holder hates you and everything you stand for Wall of Shame" were limited. I would be vastly emphasizing the qualities to these phones if I compared them to my calculator. Their feel and heft is at about the level of a toddler's toy. Now, Shaggy needed a newer phone if only because his current phone can't hold a long charge and the cost of a new battery was probably going to exceed any upgrade price we might pay.

I'm Green, why you gotta be so Brown?

This Internet thing isn't endless or unlimited, right? It's like oil, only so many dinosaurs died and are decaying at a rate constant enough to fuel the Internet. At our current usage rate, we will run out of Internet in 2 years, 7 months, 5 days, 3 hours, 29 minutes, 37 seconds and counting folks!

So our deliberations over shuffling iPods from Shaggy to PSP, and letting Shaggy use an iPhone as an iPod, in combination with needing to get Shaggy a new phone led us to a conclusion.

If Shaggy got an iPhone, he would be carrying it all the time...

...like a phone, only in addition to his phone.

Then inspiration struck. Why couldn't we just put the SIM card from his Neon into the older generation iPhone? He would have the iPod, and a phone... We don't want him to have Internet outside the house, which there are blocks on the account to prevent...WIN!

A quick test proved that what we wanted to do worked. IPod all the time, phone all the time, no Internet unless on WiFi, excellent!

Until today, when a text message arrived stating that :

AT&T Free Msg: Did you know a data plan is required for your iPhone? For whatever reason, our records indicate your iPhone did not have the correct data plan. We have added the appropriate data plan. Call 611 or go to www.att.com/dataplans for info.

Seriously AT&T?!?!

I hear that AT&T is moving 4G by using VOIP, and thus phones need a data plan to make that work. Two points to make here you electronic data nazis... 1. So the 3G isn't 4G, so naturally I couldn't use that technology right? So I am exempt. 2. Why am I paying for "minutes?" Since my iPad has a data plan and a microphone and speakers, I can make calls from that device right?

Now, many of you are correct in your assertion that AT&T was one of the last carriers to adopt this predatory practice. You probably didn't use the word "predatory" but this was your assertion? My mama used to say "if all your friends jump off a bridge does that mean you should too?"

If Microsoft was mandated to decouple Internet Explorer from the Windows operating system, this is not a far cry to go to demand data plan requirements be dropped.

AT&T, you do realize that his Neon could have had a data plan, right? He could have have had email and internet and porn and YouTube on that device, right?

Why didn't you alert me that I was denying my child the data plan so desperately needed there?!?!

I'm saving electricity by not having two devices where one will suffice. I'm not burdening your network thereby allowing my fellow citizens to use more Internet and I saved our landfills from being filled with yet another castoff electronics device.

I'm trying to do my part, why won't you help me save the dead dinosaurs?

 

 

 

The Guest Who Never Leaves!

The Simple Dude is on a much needed vacation this week and has asked your humble WilyGuy to guest post in his absence on his blog.

Catch me there...

Guest posting for someone isn't something I have done before, Oh the pressure! I have no idea what to write about that is Simple Dude worthy, so I'm just going to discuss guest blogging, opportunities, and generally saying bad things about my blogging.

In the words of Tom Hanks character, Mr. White, in That Thing You Do, "It's very important that you don't stink today." This is after he has finished telling The Wonders, that if K. O. Bailey likes what he hears, he will be playing their record "with 100,000 watts behind it." I think this is a lot like taking my 20 follower style to a powerful 100,000 watt blog like TheSimpleDude.com.

No pressure, yeah. and. right!


Now is not the time for that which all middle age male bloggers fear, that's right the dreaded CD, Creativity Dysfunction. I took my Cialis, so even if my attempt fails at impressing the millions, I've still got something going on. Now, I just have to wait for the "time to be right." For those of you out there who are in the medical field, don't worry, I am ever watchful for any Creativity lasting longer than 4 hours. On a side note, what guy doesn't watch those ads for Cialis and Viagra where they discuss this warning and not think "I'd be THE MAN!"

I'd tell you that I digress, but since I do it a lot, it seems kinda pointless...but I digress.

I've been called up from the minor leagues and I hope to be Ebby Calvin 'Nuke' LaLoosh (without the Susan Sarandon thing) or Rick 'Wild Thing' Vaughn (without the car stealing in prison thing) even Jose Canseco (without the steroids or saying stupid things to the media). I'm an all-star in my own right, which coincidentally is on my blog, but the chance to play in the blogging majors is one that I cannot pass up on.


Sure, I've never seen the exploding breaking balls in the big leagues, but just once I want to stand in against for the best bloggers and just before I get ready to write, I'd wink, make 'em think I know something they don't.

I've read all the best blog books, paying particular attention to the ones written by anonymous male bloggers who might someday let me guest post. Those books say that guest posting is one of the best ways to get noticed. I'm also lead to believe from other sources that self-aggrandizement is bad and self-deprecation is good, but worse of all is using the big words...dangit!


Here are the top three reasons not to read my blog (are you stupid man? You're supposed to be telling people why they MUST read your blog every day, even if you use run on sentences and don't post every day!) on a regular basis:

1. I'm a dude. A dude with a serious simplicity complex. In a world of women bloggers and a BlogHer movement, I'm a lone male voice crying out in the wilderness. Ok, maybe I'm not alone, but I am crying. I also admitted to wanting to be a woman, strictly for blogging purposes of course.

2. ADHD is as good as my admitted maladies get. I don't have an undiagnosed illness mental or physical. I'm not dying any faster than the rest of you (that I know about). I do have a thing for squirrels seen and unseen.

3. I am not stalking any celebrities. I don't have pictures in my cubicle of Nathan Fillion and frankly, didn't even know who he was until Bloggess and "Jen" e Sais Quoi 'introduced' him to me. I have no need for Foreigner to make me a sandwich or any other band for that matter. I do hold a serious Viagra moment torch for Salma Hayek, but I don't stalk her on Twitter or Facebook.

4. I can't count, I rebel against rules, oh and I don't curse a lot.

Caving in to the pressures of the readership (and hoping to spin up my word count as if I were still in grade school and 'blah' written 495 times turned a sentence into a small essay... but I digress (did I mention that I do that often...)) here are three imperative awesome great good reasons to read my blog.

1. Words mean things! And fortunately for me, they also mean other things and I frequently take the other meaning and run with it like Forest Gump beating Carl Lewis and Usain "in the membrane" Bolt in the hundred.

2. I have a family that says and does nutty things that make me laugh and are sometimes very laugh-worthy. They also are the victims of some of the worst possible government initiated random crapitude, which allows me to rant like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.

3. I love me some punctuation. I've written entire posts about parenthesis and ellipsis. Both are used extensively, likely incorrectly, and with dramatic flair.

That link again to My Guest Post on Simple Dude

BTW, Thanks to Good Youngman Brown, I've Lost The Game...

The Day I Was Number One

Snipe

All the blog books tell you to snipe. Simple Dude is a proponent of it.

No, I'm not talking about the woodland / marshland / "moorland" bird of this name.

Also not talking about the popular teenage game of "Snipe Hunt" where you take first time "hunters" out to the woods and then abandon them... did I mention you do this in the dark? Everyone wants to take a stroll out in the "moors" after dark, right? Who didn't just have a Werewolves of London moment? (and I don't mean Warren Zevon's song)

Bloggers are often
behind rifles...?

I'm actually referring more of the act of taking a shot. Like a sniper waiting for the right moment to strike. In the case of the guys behind the rifle, there is no luck involved as far as I can tell, it is 100% skill. There is A LOT of waiting involved. FYI, if you want some reading on said guys, I recommend One Shot, One Kill and Marine Sniper (about Carlos Hathcock).

People who "snipe" eBay auctions are looked down upon with much disdain. Just when you thought you had that Mystery Machine lunchbox with matching Scooby Doo thermos, your auction explodes in the last 20 seconds and your "winning bid" of $17.37 is completely obliterated and the final price settles in at $43.38 plus shipping and handling. You feel bewildered at what just happened. You were "unlucky" and feel that your bidding opponent was lucky this time. Again, no luck was involved as they likely employed a third party like justsnipe.com or auctionsnipe.com to deny you in the closing seconds.

Wow, killing people and being an eBay jerkoff has what to do with my sniping you ask? Well, beyond being an excellent marksman as well as being handy with the interwebs thing, I have achieved blog sniping luck.

So, the theory is that if you are able to comment on another popular blog within the top 10, it increases traffic to your own site. This is provided that you remember to include a link to your blog. Now many sites include the CommentLuv plugin which polls your feed to grab a link to your latest blog offering.

There are unofficial rules in play, an etiquette if you will.You want to find a blog that is similar to your own. You want to post a comment that is semi-worthy of being posted. Basically, it can't be a lame "first!" with a URL.

Everyone is familiar with The Bloggess, and if not Google her now, we'll wait. Her blog went a bit viral, what with posts about giant metal chickens aptly named Beyonce. Well, normally within a few moments of her posting, she has a multitude of comments and it isn't unremarkable for her to have 200 within the first 2-3 hours.

Imagine my surprise when I found a post last month that had literally posted within the last 2 minutes. I read the article, got my chuckle and left a snarky response. Imagine my surprise when my comment turned out to be then first to respond? I have reaped this traffic boost over and over again on my page.

 

Now, sniping on my posts doesn't require tons of luck or skill, heck some of my posts are SO DEEP that people are stumped as to what to say.

What is the best snipe story in your blogging career?

 

 

How Do You Women Do It?

Pick out purses, I mean?

Beyond the obvious looking for the most expensive one, where men would typically go for the cheapest one that got the job done...

Which orange is more "Springy?"

So recently, while shopping with Mrs. Mynd, we came upon a sale on purses. I didn't need one, but apparently the change of seasons signals all women to exchange a perfectly working purse for another. I likened it to a guy's wallet, but apparently since we don't wear them outside our pocket it isn't the same. Who knew? So apparently color is a huge factor in this decision, and I can imagine that this could be taken to an extreme by women with far more means that Mrs. Mynd.

There are a myriad of styles that are in play. Some look like a little tool bag and those are I believe called a clutch, which is nothing like BEING clutch. They make these bags that look like soft Easter baskets. There also bags that look like two pieces of cloth sewed together and unless you're storing a few sheets of paper, you're going to have a bulge. There are also bags that look like little mini backpacks.

Pretty sure
Eiffel Tower is in there!

Size is important to a girl. Depending upon if she is a pack rat like the Ally Sheedy character in Breakfast Club, your girl may need to carry their world and still have room for some serious kleptomaniacal finds.

This would be my bag, if I had a bag...

 

 

I will end by saying I am the luckiest man in the world, because Mrs. Mynd is the type who says things like..."I wouldn't pay that much for a purse" or "it would have to be a really good sale." She is incredibly frugal to the point of sometimes not treating herself to something that is a deal, just not a good enough deal. That is where I like to be the hero and demand she do it anyway.

 

Even Mark Rypien Won a Super Bowl!

Who?

Exactly!

He was the XXVI Super Bowl MVP and even the die hard football fans are saying "which one was that?" As the furiously fast-paced eugoogling begins, I will help you out. From the picture on the right, you'll guess that he played for the Washington Redskins.

He was the MVP for the 37-20 Redskins victory over the Buffalo Bills, this despite Gerald Riggs having 2 touchdowns on the ground.

He was also the first and only Super Bowl MVP born in Canada.

His daughter plays in the Lingerie Football League.

So, why am I telling you all this random stuff about a guy you've never heard of or barely remember because even his most stellar achievement was cloaked in invisibility and likely altered by Canadien voters?

I'VE WON ANOTHER AWARD!!!

 

Clearly prettier than most awards the Kreativ Blogger award carries with it some rules. I am required by blogger law to openly and publicly accept this award with due thanks to the blogger who bestowed it upon me. But I'm not going to do that, because I am truly thankful to Deb of Just Keepin It Real, Folks! who is an awesomely funny and creative writer in her own write (fun with words is just one of the services I offer) and I look forward to a nice chuckle whenever she posts, with chuckling being the low laugh on the scale of my reactions to her posts. In fact, I think the chuckle was for the post about the obituary for the dead kittens. Normally she is laugh out loud, dare I say guffaw...funny.

 

The rules say I have to tell you 10 random things about myself:

1. I'm impressively good at random things, because I am a lifelong member of the ADHD Club for Men.

2. I know the meaning of the word ironic. Knowing this often means not being able to use it in my blog.

3. My football team is the Pittsburgh Steelers. No, I don't own them, but they own me. Since I was 10.

4. My favorite classical music piece is Rachmaninov's 3rd Piano Concerto and I can rap all of Ice Ice Baby.

5. I'm too social to fit in with the IT Developers, but too logical for most people.

6. I have no faith in people who feel the need to quote me their credentials.

7. I should have failed the 12th grade, but despite my complete lack of effort and hideous grades in History and Humanities, I scored among the top 5 on two final exams which convinced my instructors that they may have actually taught me something despite my efforts to the contrary. They allowed me to take equivalent courses at the local community college to graduate. I had intended to go to college, yet I finished with a 4.0.

8. I had a reef tank for 3 years and I miss it's beauty, but I don't miss the constant stress of some sort of system crash.

9. I don't miss my hair.

10. I often have entire conversations in my head, much to the consternation of my wife and others.

11. I like to rebel in small ways.

 

Finally, I have the glorious responsibility to pass along the award to 6 other deserving blogs, which proves to be difficult because often the circles in which we turn are linked and my nominees are also nominated by others, so this becomes almost like a game of hot potato where you hope you are not the last blog to be picked like the glasses wearing kid in the wheelchair on the basketball court at recess.

Unlike the Liebster award, there don't appear to be any caveats as to the size of the blog or it's following that limits me in my nominations. So finally I can invite some of the pretty girls to the prom, knowing that they are jut sitting at home waiting for me to do so because everyone thinks they are out of reach and thus do not ask them....it's true just ask my parents who told me this all the time. I will end each praise in much the same way that fortune cookies should always be read with "in bed" on the end with "but in a good way."

 

1. Good Youngman Brown - we've recently found each other's blogs and I gotta say that he is almost as warped as I am, but in a good way.

 

2. "Jen" e Sais Quoi - wickedly clever, I am waiting for her first book entitled, how I think up the comparisons I do on my blog. She is often making me laugh in the same way that Bloggess does, and like the Bloggess she curses a lot in her blog, but in a good way.

 

3. Fearless Fibro Warrior - a modern day hipster sporting a new nose ring, oh, like I can talk being in my forties and recently getting tattoos. She gives a humorous recounting of all the woes of being a sufferer of Lyme disease. Did I mention she is sick, but in a good way.

 

4. Telling Dad - I love reading TD. He experiences the same things I seem to be going through including competing with his past blogs to always be better and funnier as well as not wanting to disappoint his readers with something less than they expect. I feel quite at peace knowing we were separated at birth, but in a good way.

 

5. Thoughts From Paris - Delfin is an awesome writer whom I caught while engaging in the Ultimate Blog Challenge. He has continued an incredible streak of consecutive days posting to his blog. He loves it when you tell him looks like Jake Busey. I try not to picture him bathing, but he keeps taking pictures, but in a good way.

 

6. Swinging Like a Rusty Gate - I love Rusty's insight and humor. He has a promising career blooming as Stand Up comedian. He also happens to live in Australia. He is color blind, but in a good way.

 

I hope that if you haven't given some of these blogs a chance, you'll take my recommendation and run with it straight to their blog...don't worry, I'll be sitting here waiting for you to come back.

 

 

Have You Ever Googled...

Pictures... and there's always that 'huh?' moment when you see one that sparks that "one of these things isn't quite like the others moment?"

In looking for an image that Jay of JaysRamblings attempted to link into my February Photo Challenge, I did a google for "Peyton Manning" and got what I expected, for the most part.

Now, I understand that photos are going to be less and less like my intended query as the pages progress, for instance, I'm going to start getting Eli Manning, Archie Manning, Peyton Place, maybe some Mario Manningham, Walter Payton, and Justin Bieber (isn't he programmed to appear in every google search?)

But disturbingly enough, here are some of the entries:

Drew "autocorrect hates my name" Brees was compared to Peyton, OK!

Rob Lowe makes it for being an
uninformed rumor monger about Peyton's
retirement / employment status, but the picture is from "Class" I think!

Louis Amundson? Once of the NBA?
Huh? Maybe Peyton has the same tattoo?

What?

Kim Kardashian? Sure she dated Reggie Bush and he plays football?

Joe Jonas? Way young Joe Jonas? I don't get it!
Maybe he was Justin Bieber before Justin Bieber?

Simply TOO funny to NOT include...

I will gloriously admit to not understanding how search engines work and how things get ranked on them, but if enough people view this blog, not only will all these pictures move higher in the list, but so will this picture :

Help me jack up some search engines!

 

 

The Stupidest 38 Minutes of My Life

I got an ominous envelope in the mail the other day.

 

OMG! The dreaded American Community Survey from the US Department of Commerce US Census Bureau!

 

It's good to know that I wasn't singled out, just my address. Like I believe that? The last time I was that gullible was when I thought that Snopes was truly true. Which I checked on snopes and found out was true.

The all important paragraph reads as follows:

This survey collects up-to-date information used to meet the needs of communities across the United States. For example, results from this survey are used to decide where new schools, hospitals, and fire stations are needed. This information also helps communities plan for the kinds of emergency situations that might affect you and your neighbors, such as floods and other natural disasters.

Please! Seriously?

This should read something more like :

This survey collects up-to-date information used to help local and state governments stay in power by helping to determine where wealthier patrons live, what their voting records are, and what their party affiliation should be. If some new schools, hospitals, and fire stations happen to be built because of politicians pandering to the rich, that's great too. In case of emergency, we will also know where to rescue the rich people.

Has the government not heard? The end of the world is near! Ask the Mayans.

Does anyone see anything about answering "truthfully?"

The Year was 1941. I was living in my house where I am "The Resident." My real name is Charles U. Farley. I'm living with the 47 Jewish refugees in my basement that doesn't exist on any blueprints. I can afford to feed them due to my being the oldest living (127 years young) Eskimo Puerto Rican, not of Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish origin. My birth certificate looks more fake than Obama's but I assure you that when my father's attorney Frederick Flintstone put chisel to rock, that is what they looked like.

Because my house is the first floatable apartment building that happens to be on a trailer, I am listing is as Boat, and mobile home and building with more than 2 apartments, since it is actually has 100 separate dog crates inside, they could be considered their own apartments, so I will be making all the check marks.

Not sure how we manage with just the one bathroom and one motorcycle.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

 

Don't worry, I didn't use my real handwriting... After the picture, I added "Human" as my some other race.

Some questions were unclear how they should be answered. So I chose a variety. X marks sorta-the-spot, fill in the blank but I was a bit sloppy, and of course the check which sometimes was the wrong answer.

Some answers are technically correct.

I'm not doing this to be an ass (well, ok maybe that too) but in reality I am assuring myself that no machine will read this accurately and hence human eyes must be employed. I'M CREATING JOBS, YO!

Now before all my do-gooder readers chastise me for my efforts, let me assure you that I have answered all the questions I needed to and some probably that I didn't. (my 14 year old son is not pregnant nor has he given birth in the last year - come on! He's only 14 and daddy don't raise no ho)

I've answered truthfully, but see little purpose to this whole fiasco as my trust for the trust fund babies sitting in the seats of power is less than it once was, which ain't sayin much!

Anyone else have this genuine pain in the butt pleasure this year?