Don't Ya Love Idjits?
I love that word. What word is that? The one above . . . idjits! That was one of my father's favorite words. Dad was a typical good ole boy from North Carolina. He loved his food, his booze and his smokes. He died 18 months ago from pancreatic cancer. God, I miss him. Anyway, he was good for words that I had never heard anywhere else then or now. "Earl" was one. What was an earl? The antenna on the car, of course; an aerial. The trunk of his car was the boot. And idjit was, naturally, an idiot. I find myself using that word quite often lately, especially when driving in or around Raleigh. Most of the people on the roads these days would easily qualify as idjits. Here's a question you can pose to yourself, both of you: who on the world scene today would qualify as an idjit? Here's my short list:
Saddam Hussein - for obvious reasons
Yasser Arafat - ditto
Jacques Chirac - he's French, do you need another reason?
Human shields - if you wanna act like animate armor plate, go ahead, but I think you're an idjit.
PETA - I did not fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian. Ya buncha idjits.
And last but not least, me. I'm the biggest idjit in the state right about now. Personal reasons, you understand. There are some things I don't want both of my readers to know.
You want to know why I only blog on occasion? 'Cause I spend most of my time online reading blogs. Yeah, and once I learn how to do the funky little sidebar list thingy, I'm gonna list the blogs I read the most, all dozen of them. Don't you just love it?
Long break, huh? I know, I know, 11 days and counting. Big freaking deal. It's my blog, and I can do what I wanna. (snivel, snivel, whine). Don't you just love whiners??
North Carolina to weather control, North Carolina to weather control. Whassamatta you? This is North Carolina, not North Dakota! The weather services are calling for snow AGAIN! Like The Better Half is so fond of telling me, she moved from New York to get away from the white stuff. And like I keep telling her, it followed you down here; take it back. The kids love it, of course; they've had five snow days so far this school year. The last two were ice rather than snow, but hey, they weren't in school, so what's the difference?
ET: The difference, dip, is that you were home with them and they couldn't get outside.
So now the weather geeks are calling for more snow. Gag!
ET: You love it and you know it. Quityerbitchin.
Do you hear something? Nah, must be my imagination. Anyway, . . . where was I? I think my train of thought just derailed.
ET: (snicker, snicker)
I was going somewhere with this, but now I can't remember. Must be my CRS kicking in. Whatever. Anyway, two of the boys are home with ear infections, so in addition to the usual medications available (I swear, I could run a pharmacy out of the kitchen cabinet) we now have to remember antibiotics on top of everything else. It just gets funner and funner at the nut house, don't it?
ET: And here I thought I was the unstable one. This guy's losing it.
I just spent five minutes staring into space until someone walked by and asked me if I was okay. What do you say to a question like that? "No, I'm actually having an out of body experience; care to join me?" just won't cut it. Lawyers are not known for their sense of humor.
ET: Oh, I don't know. Most of them I've met are quite amusing.
I think it's time for more coffee. Coffee, yeah, that's the ticket! And maybe a candy bar, too. Or not. Let's just try coffee. Maybe a cigarette, too? Hey, why not?
ET: Because neither one is good for you, dummy! Hello! Brain to body, stop this jerk! Stop him, I say!
Seems like my Evil Twin and I got into a pissing match the other day. Now he's not talking to me. Between you and me, I haven't lost any sleep over it. I figure he'll be back with a vengeance eventually.
Time for a shameless plug. No, not for me, for a fellow blogger. Bigwig
has obviously been here (and no, he didn't leave any hraka behind). If by some odd chance you end up here and haven't read Bigwig's blog, shame on ya! Get over there and give him a look!
Today being Valentine's Day and all, I got The Better Half a dozen yellow roses and a box of candy last night. I would have been better off getting her a new circular saw. The Better Half, also known around the hacienda as "Ms. Bob Vila", has been spending the last week renovating the bathroom and laundry room. So far, she has repainted, wallpapered, retiled part of the floor, built a new frame around the bathroom window, and built a new closet in the hallway. No wonder she's so tired at night.
ET: You don't think she's maybe compensating for something, do you?
I don't remember asking you a damn thing. Besides, you know it's illegal to put me and a power tool in the same room.
ET: Yeah, I remember the last time you tried to use a power saw . . .
Don't bring THAT up again!
ET: Isn't that what your wife told you the other night?
Hey, I don't discuss YOUR personal life in public!
ET: Heh, heh, heh.
(Looking around) I think he went back to sleep. Hope so, anyway.
It's been a rough week. How can I tell? I can't spell anymore. Brain shutting down! Error! Error! Errrrrorrrrr! God, I sound like Nomad from the old Star Trek episode. Maybe that's why my Evil Twin is so quiet, my brain's not getting enough sugar. I guess it's time for a coffee and chocolate hit.
ET: Here's another fine mess you've gotten us into.
Me: What the hell are you hallucinating about now?
ET: You know exactly what I mean, jackass. You spent all day staring at a computer screen, half the night working on the kitchen table, and now you're staring at a computer screen again. What's wrong with you?
Me: Hey, I'm not the one who made the day only 24 hours long. Complain to the management. I just work here.
ET: Of course, if you quit farting around all the time, you'd get more done.
Me: And just when, pray tell, am I supposed to sleep?
ET: Sleep? I'm your subconscious, I never sleep! I am always awake, always aware, always on top of things, always...
ET: Don't piss me off, buddy, I'll go stay with Zod for a few days and pick up some pointers.
Me: God would not be so cruel to me.
ET: Don't make me start getting existentialist on your ass!
Me: Okay, that's it. Time for more caffeine. Or time to go to bed, take your pick. I pick . . . bed! Shut up, ET!
ET: Frag off.
Me: Great, now my subconscious is developing a British accent. Beats a French accent, I guess.
Slow coupla days here. Slow as in absolutely nothing going on, at work anyway. Home is the usual asylum. The Better Half informs me that the repairman can't repair the washing machine, so I'm looking at another expense. Maytag Dependability, my rear leg. You wanna field test new washing machines? Send it to my house for a month; if it can survive that, it can survive anything short of a direct hit by a nuclear warhead.
Same goes for kids toys. If it can survive intact with my kids for over a month, it is virtually indestructible (man, I didn't realize that word would be so hard to spell! Brain must be shutting down, again.). Think I'll take a lesson from Bigwig
and start having conversations with my ego. I can't use Zod as my alter ego, 'cause Bigwig did it first. Maybe I'll name it My Evil Twin, MET for short. Or just ET, for the hell of it. Does anyone else notice that I'm doing the typing equivalent of babbling?
ET: Well, now that you mention it . . .
Me: Don't start on me, it's been a rough week.
ET: I know (snicker, snicker).
Me: And just what is THAT supposed to mean?
ET: Nuthin', man, nuthin'. Just commenting.
Me: I wonder if Bigwig puts up with this kind of crap from Zod.
ET: Who do you think I learned it from in the first place?
Me: I'm screwed.
I'm Back, for Those who Care
I was actually going to do a little blogging last Saturday, but the Columbia disaster kinda put the damper on that. I spend the entire morning watching MSNBC, which basically consisting of watching amateur video of the shuttle debris streaking through the atmosphere. I hated watching it, but I couldn't tear myself away from it. I just kept saying to myself, "God, I hope they didn't suffer!" My prayers go out to the astronauts and their families; it would be hard to find braver people than them.
On the home front, which is my way of trying to explain where I've been for the two people who really care, work picked up tremendously about the middle of October and has been going hell for leather since. Add in a five year old with walking pneumonia (as far as we can tell, he's been sick for about two months with this crap), all of the Knights of Columbus
work I've had going for Operation LAMB, and the various and sundry (I wonder where that phrase originated, a drugstore?) things required to keep a household of children from killing each other, and it's been a busy few months.
I've been really slack keeping up with reading my favorite blogs, also. I guess Bigwig
think I dropped off the face of the earth. Wishful thinking, guys. And just what does Bigwig mean by calling me a N.C. mouthpiece, anyway? He asked for a poem, I sent him one.
Time to get back to work to make enough money to buy a new washing machine, something that Meryl
can relate to. One of my genius children left a pull chain from a light fixture in his pocket, and the damn thing ended up destroying the water pump and the drum. Sigh. Some days debtor's prison doesn't sound so bad.