She Loves Me

 

You know how I know my wife loves me? 

She makes me Bacon Cheeseburger Meatloaf.

Yeah, she really knows how to butter me up. I can eat this stuff for days.
Of course we use ground turkey instead of beef, but BACON in my meatloaf. That is one step beyond her father's recipe that calls for strips of bacon on top of the meatloaf.

I knew there was a reason I married her.

Sometimes Crazy is More Than a Little Scary

 

Things you do not want to hear on a Saturday afternoon:

Oldest daughter to my wife: "After our nap, when you and daddy are talking in the den, we are going to crazy it up around here."

Oldest daughter to me a bit later: "I am loco and we are going to crazy it up later, after my nap"

There is a reason I lock my bedroom door and keep a knife handy at night. My oldest is starting to scare the hell out of me and she is not even four years old yet.

Sunday

Saturday

HOLY CRAP MY HEAD HURTS

This will be short.
My head has felt like the picture above looks all day. The pain, throbbing, and pressure will not go away. I have slept, taken pills, nearly succumbed to the peppermint schnapps in the freezer, and almost cried.
It is almost as bad as staring at a picture of Atlas all day long, but nothing is that bad.

So please understand that I am about to go back to lying very still and praying for certain death. I am not even sure there is enough vicodin in the world to stop the hurt right now.

Over 12 hours of it and it is not going to let go any time soon.
Just another reason to hate Friday.

Hopefully I will be back on my feet and full of hate and rage by Monday.
Sunday I plan on drinking beer all day pain or no pain.

When the going gets wierd, the wierd turn pro.

Rest in Peace.
Despite what a lot of people think, I really do believe that you were weird in a harmless way. Rich, crazy as batshit, weird, but totally fucking harmless.

Someone ought to take a stick to your parents. You never got a chance to be a kid and then you were too rich, famous, and bizarre to have a normal life.

Lets hope what ever comes next is better for you.
I really hope Elvis does not kick your moon walking ass in the next life. You two should almost be friends. 

They Love Me

They hate to admit it, but when my mother in law gets me a six pack of real Dr. Pepper (that means real cane sugar, not high fructose corn sugar) and my wife gets me tickets to the Astros, it shows how much they like me.

I know it must hurt to do that, but sometimes the love just shines through.

Damn, Father's Day was good.

I Must Be Getting Old

The Bare Truth

I Think I Missed the Memo

I went to Walgreens for a late evening prescription run and on my way I out I noticed that the McDonalds sign next door was trying to tell me something. After standing there like an idiot for a couple of complete cycles I finally took a picture. 

Either it was a lot colder way up at the top of the sign, or someone forgot to send me the memo to bundle up because it was going to be -196 F.  Strange shit like this puts me on edge. Kind of like hearing about the loco truck. When it makes no sense, I worry that I am a little behind the curve and something bad is lurking around the corner.

No matter what, I might bundle up tomorrow night. I cannot take too many more -196 F nights.

Sometimes You Just Do Not Know What to Say

When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that: "Have ya paid your dues, Jack?" "Yessir, the check is in the mail." 

Jack Burton - Big Trouble in Little China

I have been in plenty of situations like the one above and I guess that is why the quote appeals so much to me. When faced with either someone telling how they are going to hurt me or a woman telling me the things she wants to do with me, I always wielded my sarcasm like a kung fu master.  Good sarcasm makes you look fearless an the most opportune moments.  The problem is that there are time when sarcasm is not the way to go. Sometimes you just have to stare crazy in the face and laugh a nervous laugh and walk away.

Like tonight.

I am giving my 3.5 year old daughter a shower when she looks me straight in the eyes and we have this exact conversation;

Daughter: "Daddy, the loco party started at 7."

Me: "Ughhh, what are you talking about?"

Daugther: " The loco party started at 7 and the loco truck will be here as soon as I get out of the shower."

Me: Laughing nervously "What makes you say that darling?"

Daughter:"Oh daddy, you are loco just like me. You are really going to like the loco truck."

Of course I am trying to figure out just what kind of hellish thing my child is channeling when she laughs and finishes off the whole scene with a quick; "It is okay to be insane in the membranes."

After that the my child finished her shower and went back to normal. 

It is moments like that were sarcasm has no place because it went way past weird and straight into scary.

It is also valuable to remember that 3.5 year olds do not get sarcasm so you are wasting a hell of shot trying to save face by unleashing some on her. 

I am still sleeping with something sharp under my pillow tonight. 

Idiot Does Not Mean Safe

Summer Fun

I know some of you, okay, NONE of you wonder what a creepy person like me does during the summer. Contrary to most believes, I do not go on a serial killing spree in Mexico or some other destination. I just do not roll like that.

What I do, besides eat, drink, sleep, and annoy the locals is work at a ropes course. We call it a challenge course, and it lets me get a bit of my crazy on without harming people or animals.

This is me all duded up for the beginning of the work day. Notice the cool shades, the cool climbing helmet, and the look of utter contempt. That is me on a good day, when almost nothing hurts. Do this shit for five days in a row, eight hours a day, in 97 F heat and then you will understand pain. Shit, I live for this crap.

My day starts early when the team that works that day arrives and gets briefed by the lead facilitator. Some days that is me, many days it is not.  After we know the game plan for the day, we go set the elements. I know most of this crazy talk, but the challenge course has two parts, high and low elements. Low elements are close to the ground and constitute more team building activities. The kids work together on that side to build teamwork and trust. It is a great way to work with kids.

On the high side are all the cool things that take individual initiative.  I have to climb between 25 and 45 in the air set up ropes and pulleys so that the elements can be used.

 

This is the one I climbed and set all last week. It is nearly 35 feet up and called the pamper pole. More on that later. Once I get to the top I have hang a rope and pulley as I dangle off the pole. Loads of fun.

This is what it looks like from the top.  For pamper pole, the kids get hooked to a rope, climb to the top of a pole, and jump off like superman. Crazy crap, but fun.

This is the climbing tower. I spent most of the last week on that little platform off to the left. I stand up there and take the climber off the tower, attach them to the zip line and shot them down the zip line. Look up zip line to see what I mean.

For the most part the kids love climbing (they are always safely hooked to a rope and belay team) and there are very few freak outs. Of course I spend a lot of time sharing my platform with other people, so it can get crowded and I am not allowed to shove them off.

 

It may be hot. It may be long days. It is fun though. I work with everything from 2nd graders up through medical school residents here. We work on team building and individual goal setting. Sometimes we work on other issues and sometimes we just have fun. 

So if you have ever wondered what I do during the summer. This is it on some days.

Boston at Last

 

 

As you all know my World Tour stop in Boston started with the plane ride from hell. It had nothing to do with the flight crew, but with the extreme assholes who were riding with me. Strike one for Boston.

My first thirty minutes in Boston were spent in the back of a cab weaving in and out of various lanes of traffic, all of which were underground. While Logan Airport seemed sane, the continous travel underground was beginning to wear on me when I finally arrived above ground and at the Sheraton downtown. 

All I can say is that I do not like cab rides. I do not like cabs. I am not fond of cabbies. That is just me. I live in real civilization where you drive your own car or you ride in the back of the police car after they drag you out of your car. Life is easier that way.

Night One in Boston was great. I was taken to a huge cook out at my Brother in Law’s house and immediately one of his over educated Harvard buddies showed me the unholy thing he had made.

I laughed. I cried. I think I professed my undying love to the man. He had created a real life Bacon Explosion. This kid was about to graduate from the Harvard School of Design with a Masters Degree in Architecture and he had made it his mission to create a Bacon Explosion. Here is a shout out to DK.
I Love you Man. I mean that in a totally bacon kind of way. Bacon explosion is good. I mean great. Oh man, I fell in love with it.

After a long night of eating and drinking beer it was lights out time at the Sheraton. I was on the 24^th floor and had a great view of downtown. It was a beautiful city.

Day two was graduation at the Harvard School of Design. Then it was off to what Boston apparently does best, the bars. I think square foot for square foot Boston has more bars than Austin. If you cannot find a bar in Boston, then  you are not trying.  It was 1 am on June 5^th that I had a Jack Daniels and Coke at last call for my dad. Some traditions go on no matter what, even if I am in Boston.

Day three was the Harpoon brewery. I can hardly explain a place where they let you in for free and then serve you all the beer you can hold for an hour. Did I say free of charge? Did I say ALL THE BEER you can hold? Lets just say that an hour at the Harpoon brewery may be the only one they ever allow me to spend there. I expect policies to change after I left.

That night it was off to Fenway park for  Red Sox game. I am not a Boston fan, but I will tell you that Sox fans are what baseball are all about. I sat behind home plate and it was great. They cheered for everything. They love their team. It made me jealous as hell. Sometimes it sucks to be an Astros fan.

Needless, the night ended after nearly freezing to death (yes 55 F in JUNE in BOSTON), but really enjoying the game. I just wish the Red Sox had won.

Saturday was my last real day in Boston. I saw the children’s museum, Curious George Store, and drank even more beer. I had a huge clam dinner and spent the rest of evening in one of the million or so bars in the city.

The best part of my trip?

The couple that were going at it like porn stars in the tower across from us. Talk about a great view as I put my shoes on Sunday morning as these two crawled up against the window and gave me a show I will remember for at least a month. Damn, Boston has live porn too.

Long story short, BOSTON ROCKS. I would and will go back. I think of it as the Austin of the Northeast now. It is far cry from the shithole that is New York. Boston is one of the few places I have really enjoyed outside of Texas.

800

From left to right, these photos show my kingdom at dusk. I am sitting here right now uploading the pictures, drinking an ice cold Shiner Bock, typing this post, and surveying my well manicured kingdom as the sun goes down. At moments like this it is very good to be the king. Yard is mowed, the kids are asleep, the missus is relaxing with her puzzle book, and the hounds are fed. Damn, I am not sure why I even bother to waste time doing this on nights like this.

Which brings me to my point, I guess. This is post number 800. I never thought I would get here and part of me wanted to just slap up another of my post it notes and be smarmy. Instead I have decided to contemplate what this all means and where I am going with it.

Do not worry, Doom Cake is not folding up shop and going away. Someday. Someday. Someday, but not today. There will be a show down with my boss or the missus at some point, but not in the near future. I am too mean and strong willed for that.

When I started all those posts ago, I had no clue as to what I wanted to do with this thing and I meandered around. I still meander. I lack the prose of Mike or the outright insanity (I say that with love) of Chicky, but I still think I do a good job. I do get tired of it. There are weeks like the one that just past where I could not come near the computer and felt guilty about it. Shit, I feel less guilty about Shane telling the world that my last post it was stolen from his deviant mind that I do about not blogging for week because I was lazy. Go figure.

So I guess I need to say thanks to everyone who comes here and reads. Thanks to everyone who leaves a comment, those give me a stiffy and that is good. Thanks to those who link to me. Thanks to those who keep me laughing when I read what you post. We are a strange twisted little part of the world, but you folks help keep my head screwed on crooked.

So happy 800 to me. Lets keep this shit rolling. I cannot deal with too much sappiness, so I am off to get another beer and read some shit from Atlas. He at least knows how to make me laugh in a way that scares other people. He never makes me mad. He just makes me want to find him and laugh hysterically as I put him through some "intense interrogation" methods. Too bad he would like it. Thank God he is a baseball fan or I might go find him.

Good night all. I think I will share about Boston this week. It is starting to eat at me.

Letting Your Inner Self Go

Back At Last

 

Sorry about the week off, but  I have been BUSY. 

BUT....

Let me tell you about my flight to Boston. I got to ride on a Boeing 737-800 and it was a nice new plane. The problem was that it was packed to the gills with dumb fucks. 

I am talking real primative screw-heads here.

If the captain comes on once and tells you to sit your ass down and buckle in because of turbulence, then you do it. You do not fuck around on a plane.   By about the the sixth request that everyone take their seats and remain seated I was amazed that the pilot was not coming back into the main cabin with a baseball bat to break some heads. Yeah, it was that jacked up.

People would not sit down. The flight attendants were being shoved, cussed, and generally mistreated. I was ready to kick everyone's ass for the flight crew. It was that bad.

It was the longest three hour flight I have ever been on because I wanted to kill almost every other passenger on the jet by the time we landed. So did the flight crew.  I would have helped them then covered up what really happened all for free.

So the next time I get on a plane be forewarned that I am going to get  nuts on the first screw-head that does not listen to the pilot. Sit down and buckle up means just that; SIT THE FUCK DOWN, SHUT UP, AND STAY IN YOUR SEAT.

Just imagine me so angry I did not use my free drink tickets on the flight up. That is some bad ANGRY right there.

More later. ...

Homeland Security is Your Friend

Doom Cake World Tour: Boston

Star Trek: Attack of the Space Turds

I finally got a chance to see the new Star Trek movie and I have to take the time to respond.  The whole “This isn’t your father’s Star Trek” thing has always rubbed me wrong and after seeing the movie I can honestly say it should be titled “Star Trek: Attack of the Space Turds.” 

Yeah, you read that right. I think this movie was a giant space turd and let me explain why. Be warned, there are spoilers here, so do not read if I am going to ruin the movie for you.

1. Nero is a giant space turd. Romulans with tattoos? Bald Romulans? Wasn’t that one done already? Bald tattooed Romulan Coal miners from the future? Space Turd #1.

2. Mr. Spock was unable to calculate the arrival time of the super nova blast that fucked up the future and set Nero on his path of turdness? Space Turd # 2.

3. Romulans are too fucking stupid to calculate the arrival of the super nova blast that Mr. Spock had already miscalculated? The race that invents a cloaking device cannot do simple math? Space Turd # 3.

4. Mr. Spock not only travels back in time but for some unknown reason brings enough black hole juice with him to create a zillion black holes? Maybe he just was not sure how much he needed? He was going to stuff it in strippers G-strings for tips? Space Turd #4.

5. Nero gets sucked into a black hole and shipped back in time and he just happens to blow up the space ship that Capt. Kirk’s dad was on and fuck James T. up? SPACE TURD #5.

6. The past is so fucked up by Nero that the future is too, kind of of? The whole, things are the same, but maybe totally fucking different now because of the evil time travelling bald romulan coal miner excuse of why the next two “STAR TREK” movies will be nothing like the show is the biggest fucking JJ Abrams Space Turd of all.

See where I am going with this? I have barely scratched the surface and I am up to 6 giant floating space turds. I still have another half dozen turd moments that I cannot bear to speak about yet. I will have to get some medicine for that.

If I were to see J.J. Abrams on the street tomorrow I would kick him in the balls till he understood how I really feel. I mean jump up and down and dance the jig of unhappiness right on top of his man sack. I want his pain to be like mine.

Now with that being said, there were good parts to this movie. The actors and their portrayals of the original characters were great. Kirk is still THE CAPTAIN. Their origins and original encounters were well done. I enjoyed it.

Old Spock and New Spock were good. That part of the story is well done. If they had cut the one scene where New Spock explains how time travel fucks, but not really fucks, the future I would be so much better with this movie. BUT…. My brain keeps jumping back to “Things look the same, but JJ Abrams reserves the right to fuck it up with more movies”

So I say stay home. Rent it if you have to. Kick J.J. Abrams in the nut sack if you see him.