Mayflower - What the Heck?

In my travels recently I found this Mayflower moving van parked in the Home Depot parking lot in Eldersburg. This is certainly something you don't see much of in Maryland.

I suspect that the local Mayflower moving companies all went out of business after they moved the Baltimore Colts to Indianapolis. And it serves them right - losing all of their Maryland business. If they were smart they wouldn't have accepted the job. The picture of the Mayflower truck pulling out of the Owings Mills training facility in the middle of the night during a snow storm is one of the most notorious pictures in Baltimore history.

What's funny is that this Mayflower truck has a Raven's logo on it. Yeah, like that's really ever going to entice me to hire them. I will be 80 years old and I will refuse to hire them. As far as I am concerned they are co-conspirators in ripping a part of my childhood away from me in 1984.

The Fish Tank Accident

Near the end of the summer my wife saw some free fish on Freecycle.com. I have owned fish in the past, but we haven't had a real fish tank since my wife and I have been married. We picked up 12 convict cichlids from a girl going away to college who didn't want to take the fish with her. The fish were definitely going to a good home. Or so we thought.

She gave us a 10 gallon tank, which I thought was kind of small for the number and sizes of the fish. The largest was about 5 inches long, with several in the 3 to 4 inch range. I figured I'd get a larger tank and move them eventually. Moreover, my wife was excited that we were getting "free" fish. Several hundred dollars later (new gravel, filter, new lid, air pump, line, etc...).


We put the fish tank in my son's room and he pretended for a while that he liked fish. My wife then found another person giving away fish - some little guppies. I got another 10 gallon tank from Goodwill in Owings Mills and put them in it - also in my son's room.

Soon thereafter, one of the air pumps stopped working. I decided that until I could get a new air pump I would move the working pump from one tank to another. It would only be a few days. I disconnected the air line and let it drop to the floor and moved the pump to the other tank.

The next day I get a phone call at work at 7:45am. It's my wife. "Eludius Jr. came downstairs screaming. All of the fish are gone and there's no water in the tank! I think the fish tank broke. You need to come home now!" Oh, boy.

I race home. Run up the stairs. And leap into his room. Squish. Squish. Squish. "I found the water!" His carpet is soaked. 10 gallons of fish tank water. How did it happen? I have no idea. I look in the tank and there's a 1 inch puddle of water and 11 of the cichlids are flopping around in it. I race downstairs and grab the 3 gallons of fresh water that I keep to top off the tanks. I dump them in the tank. There's now enough water for the fish to swim upright. However, we do have one casualty. Fortunately it's one of the smallest cichlids.

I then proceed to examine the fish tank. I see the aerator line that attaches to the inside of the glass. The water stopped right at this piece. Which is connected to the tubing, which, as I look down, goes all the way to....the.....floor. For crying out loud! By disconnecting the line from the pump I created a siphon and drained the tank myself.

I try to soak up the carpet as best as I can. No matter how many of my wife's good bath towels I use, I cannot seem to soak up all of the fish tank water. I put a fan on it and decide to check on it after work.

When I get home...the floor is still wet. I pull back the carpet. The padding is soaked. My wife and I finally decide that the carpet has to go. And like any good Carroll County resident I rip up the carpet, roll it up and store it on my porch for several days.

What do we do now? We've always thought it would be great to have hardwood floors. So let's start with my son's room. I begin the prep and get the floor all cleaned. Unfortunately, it was right at the same time my daughter was diagnosed with leukemia, so it sat for a while. But finally, I got the time and with a little help from my neighbor we finished it.

And I have to admit - it looks fantastic. My oldest daughter wants me to do her room next. My wife wants me to do our bedroom. It cost about $800 to do his room. I estimate to do the entire upstairs it would costs about $3000 - money we don't have right now.

For the record, the cichlids are now in a 35 gallon tank in the living room. It's pretty cool. Stop by and check it out some time!

Here are the pictures of the progression:


Note the water damage on the left side. It's not terrible. I wrote a note on it explaining what happened and I dated it. When they rip up the floors in 100 years they might find that interesting. Or they'll think I'm a dork.


We had to move everything out of my son's room onto the landing. It was quite a mess.


On our way. With power tools!


Almost done.

All done. Nice and shiny.


You know - for a guy that's not very handy, I think a did a pretty darn good job.

Fun Times at Big T's

I make it a point to go to the ghetto Carrolltowne Center as little as possible. This is the mall owned by Black Oak Associates that appears to be neglected. Well, this week we made an exception.

My son has been looking for different Star Wars Lego sets and has not been able to find them. Apparently the ghetto Wal-Mart in Eldersburg hasn't replenished its stock of Legos since Christmas.

So we went into Big Lots, whose sign has several lights out, as you see from the picture. What's a Big T? I can think of something. I entered the store with much anticipation. I could go for some Big T's!!! Much to my chagrin, it was actually still Big Lots. Anyway, as we walk in I tell my 2 older kids to push carts, but slouch over them like you see white trash do. You've seen those people at Wal-Mart pushing the cart, leaning on it so much that if the cart were pulled away from them they'd fall flat on the floor. Yeah, we did that.


As we're slummin' around the store, my wife is getting visibly irritated. "What are we looking for?"

I quickly glimpse around the store for something interesting and in a split second see a guitar-shaped container filled with popcorn with an Elvis sticker on the front of it. "I'm looking for a guitar-shaped container filled with popcorn with an Elvis sticker on the front of it!" I proclaim.

We walk around a bit longer and my 11 year old daughter comes running up to my wife and me, her face as red as a tomato, hysterically laughing, carrying a a guitar-shaped container filled with popcorn and an Elvis sticker on the front of it. "You're not going to believe this!!!!"

I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. Thank you, Big T's!!!

Aaron Burr Lover Says What?

I had planned to have lunch the other day with some coworkers from my former department. I think about 7 guys had accepted the lunch appointment. Unfortunately, only 2 others showed up.


One of these fellows was a guy I had never met before. However, he had heard about me and the fact that I'm a political nut (in the nicest sense of the word) and a bit of a history buff.


In our discussion this new guy asks which of the Founding Fathers is my favorite. I love reading about all of them. To me, picking my favorite Founding Father is like picking my favorite bikini model. Seriously - how can you choose????


But I do find Alexander Hamilton the most intriguing. Washington was the quiet leader who got lucky in battle many times, but set the tone for what a President should be. John Adams was the neurotic legislator who threw temper tantrums when he didn't get his way. Thomas Jefferson was the writer of the Declaration of Independence, founder of the University of Virginia, Governor of Virginia, Secretary of State, Vice President, and President, and keeper of a slave concubine - Sally Hemmings. That's quite a resume'! James Madison was the brilliant short nerdy guy in the back of the room who didn't say much, but was a genius with the strokes of his pen.


There are others, but Alexander Hamilton fascinates me because he was the bastard orphan who grew up in St. Croix (not in America!), had nothing, but showed brilliance in running a business, was sent to America by a sponsor, went to what is now Princeton and crossed paths with Aaron Burr many times over his life. He created the Department of the Treasury. He pushed for a strong Federal government, which is basically how the government is now.


What's interesting is that Jefferson is considered the father of the modern Democratic Party, though he is more the founder of classical liberalism, which has been oportunistically bastardized over the years to gain favor with the voters. Jefferson prescribed smaller government and states' rights - did you hear that Jefferson Davis???


Jefferson and Hamilton butted heads (as did Jefferson and Adams, and Hamilton and Adams). Are you seeing a pattern here?


Anyway, as I mentioned, Burr's and Hamilton's paths in life crossed many times until that fateful date on the cliffs of New Jersey where Burr and Hamilton met for a duel, resulting in the Vice President of the United States shooting and killing the former Secretary of the Treasury. Burr was disgraced, and wasn't elected to serve as Vice President again under Jefferson (this honor went to Madison). He then lost his bid for the Governor of New York. Burr then went south and played politics with General Wilkinson (General of Army of New Orleans and later Governor of Louisiana Territory) with hopes of striking it rich by bilking the government in land-grabs.


Burr tried to conspire with Wilkinson to grab land from Texas, take over the Louisiana Territory, and possibly invade Mexico and declare himself king. Can you image if Joe Biden did something like that today? If you think those fake hair plugs and dentures are funny, this would have been political fodder for the Daily Show for years to come.


Nonetheless, Burr was arrested for being a traitor several times, but was eventually acquitted (by Supreme Court Justice John Marshall) and released. Burr subsequently fled to England to restart his schemes, but eventually died much to everyone's delight.


Now I give you all of this background for the simple comment said to me by this new guy at lunch. The conversation basically went like this:


Who was your favorite Founding Father?
Probably Alexander Hamilton.
Ah. Shot and killed by Aaron Burr, and deservedly so.

WHAT?????!!!!!! Is this guy nuts? It's funny how 2 people who share similar historical knowledge and political views can have vastly different opinions on the same matter.


God save the King!

Do You Need A Bag?

I wish I would hear this question more often when I go shopping. We all know that those stupid blue plastic bags take 4.5 billion years to decompose, which if I'm not mistaken is the average tenure of a member of the U.S. Senate. And if you live in Baltimore City you're required to toss empty bags into your neighbors' trees.

Yesterday I was in Food Lion (pronounced Food Lee-uhn). I bought a toothbrush, raisins, and a jar of pizza sauce. I carried all 3 up to the register in my hands. As I handed her my shoppers' tracking card (which they call a bonus card) I told her that I didn't need a bag. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. "You don't need a bag?", emphasizing "baaaaaag". "You don't need a baaaaaag?" "No, I do not need a bag." "Oooooooo-kay."

What the hell? Why am I an idiot for not wanting a bag? I can carry this stuff. This is just one example. We do our big grocery shopping at Martin's in Eldersburg. If left to do things themselves then EVERYTHING would go in a bag. Milk - in a bag. A bag of potatoes - in a bag. Why would you put a bag in a bag? Aren't the potatoes already in a bag? This drives me nuts. Don't they want to save money.

And for the record, when I do use those bags, I recycle them by bringing them back to the grocery store where they make into benches where smokers can sit outside and enjoy their carcinogens.

Do you need a bag for that?

Why I Got Rid Of My Dog

My dog sleeps about 20 hours a day. She has her food prepared for her. She can eat whenever she wants, 24/7/365. Her meals are provided at no cost to her. She visits the Dr. once a year for her checkup, and again during the year if any medical needs arise. For this she pays nothing, and nothing is required of her. She lives in a nice neighborhood in a house that is much larger than she needs, but she is not required to do any upkeep. If she makes a mess, someone else cleans it up. She has her choice of luxurious places to sleep. She receives these accommodations absolutely free. She is living like a queen, and has absolutely no expenses whatsoever. All of her costs are picked up by others who go out and earn a living every day. I was just thinking about all this, and suddenly it hit me like a brick in the head, Holy crap, my dog is a democrat!

Commuters Support Other People Using Public Transportation

This is an older post from The Onion, but it is still hysterical (and true!!!)

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/report_98_percent_of_u_s_commuters

Sniffy the Dishwasher Saleswoman

Our house will turn 11 years old this year and it is starting to show signs of its age. We put a contract on the house in 1998 and in January of 1999 they started building. We didn't know much about building a house at the time (we were only 26 years old), so we made some decisions that in retrospect were not the best.

For example, thinking we were absolutely strapped and would never get another pay increase in our entire life, we did not bump out the back wall. Now the back wall is creeping inward. It would have been nice to have that extra 2-4 feet.

Another decision we made was to go with builder-grade appliances. I guess that wasn't too bad. Our stove is still fine. However, our dishwasher sucks. And by sucks I mean it is sucking money out of our wallet.

With a control dial and no delayed time option, we are at the mercy of its incapabilities when we want to run the dishwasher in the middle of the night during lower electricity rate times. Additionally, the flap on the inside that opens and dumps the soap at a certain time rarely works anymore. We usually open the dishwasher to find 2 racks of steam-cleaned dishes and a soap dish full of soap.

Last week we had had enough. I went to Harpers in Eldersburg to check out what they have as I'd rather buy from the small retailer first. Their selection was limited as expected and their prices a bit high. We also checked out Home Depot, and while the gentleman was nice, he was not very helpful. When a customer asks you a question the expected answer is not "I think so" or "maybe". I guess this is what happens when a big box retailer jams as much Chinese-made stuff into a store and pays slightly educated people very low wages to sell their wares.

We decided to check out Sears in Westminster in the spacious and glamorous Westminster Mall (or whatever they call it). We reconnoitered to the appliances and were immediately accosted by a heroin\cocaine addict screaming irrational demands at us like, "you NEED this dishwasher!" without even hearing what our requirements were.

Cloaked in black on black on black with loose fitting black snow boots, the 50 year old sniffing and stoned Goth girl showed us some different models and finally led us to an LG model that for some reason unlike the other dishwashers offered free delivery, installation, and removal. Well, not entirely free - we paid $169, but were given a slip for an immediate refund.

Entirely uncomfortable in her element, Sniffy filled our ears with that uncomfortable laugh that you often hear by the crack whores when they get caught on COPS and try to pretend that they were just waiting for a friend to pick them up. And she talked fast. Without taking a single breath she exhaled the following: "This is totally the dishwasher you need because you have wonderful kids and there's no tax on the installation and Sears is the number one dishwasher retailer in the country and Mexico. Is it Friday? Oh, my, this is such a great deal you will be so happy if you buy this because I would be happy. Is it Friday? Did I mention there's no tax when you purchase this dishwasher? That's tax on the installation, hee-hee. Is it Friday?"

One of our primary requirements is that the dishwasher be ultra-quiet. Our current dishwasher sounds like someone jammed a hair dryer, a lawnmower, and a vacuum cleaner into the unit. Kitchen conversation is unachievable during the wash cycle.

We asked Sniffy what the decibel rating was on the new LG unit. I read that we should require around 47 decibels. She said, "Oh, it's low. It's the quality sound package. It's definitely low. You'll love it. Sears is the number one sound package distributor of sound quality dishwashers in the country and Mexico. Is it Friday?" My wife finally told her, "We're not buying this dishwasher unless you can tell us the decibel rating. "Okay, I'll see what I can do." After a 5 minute search and a few lines of blow she returned with her pants zipper half-way down and with her pink glossy eyes proudly claimed that she found it and it was low.

We finally decided to purchase the unit and the one hour process of paying for it was initiated. We saved an additional 5% by opening a Sears charge and there was no interest or payments for 1 year. That sounds good to me! However, the 'computer is acting up' speech then ensued. It took her 4 times to ring it up and she was extremely flustered. The obnoxious uncomfortable "tee-hees" followed. My ten year old daughter then began to laugh behind her back, while the other 2 kids rolled on the floor in extreme boredom next to the dust-caked sewing machines. She finally called the kid from the electronics section to come help her - you know, the kid with the hair so long it was over his eyes, so I'm not sure how he could see if he was helping her or not.

Finally the pain ended as the transaction was completed, we all quickly departed and we raced to the car. We grabbed some ice cream at Hoffman's and headed home. The new dishwasher will be here on Wednesday, but the hysterical memories of Sniffy will last forever.

Irreconcilable Differences

In an ironic twist, Playboy founder and stud Hugh Hefner is filing for divorce from his wife Kimberly Conrad citing irreconcilable differences. What could be irreconcilable with him? I could understand if she was divorcing him. How easy is it to be married to a guy who sleeps with 15 naked 25 year old girls? Was Hefner really upset about something? I mean, if my wife let me sleep with 15 naked 25 year old girls I'd never leave her.

Weekend Adventures

On Saturday God wrath upon Eldersburg rains rivaling the flood of Genesis. I noticed that my gutters were overflowing with water, splashing upon the garden sending mud and mulch everywhere. Not having but one small tree near my house, I figured it was not leaves that were damming my pipes, but mud.

On Sunday morning my son and I went to Home Depot and picked up another 10 feet of black plastic ribbed pipe. I decided that I was going to extend the drain farther away from the house and into the yard. Currently the pipe emptied into a buried gravel pit.

My son and I started digging and boy was it muddy. We dug a trench veering away from the house to a downward sloping area. We then pulled up the existing pipe, connected it to the new pipe and gently laid it's flaccid body in the trench. We covered the pipe with dirt and the carefully removed sod. Finally - we were done.

To test our new work I took the hose and aimed it upon the roof above the garage. I had my son go to the end of the new pipe and asked him to let me know when the water began to flow out. We waited. And waited. Nothing. It was like waiting for the Democrats to produce a fiscally responsible bill - felt like it was never going to happen! Then suddenly the water began to pour over the sides of the gutter again. Obviously something else was blocking the pipe!

I finally paused our effort and got out the 8 ft step ladder. Being only 3 ft tall myself, I couldn't
see into the gutter, but on my tippy-toes with my platform shoes I could feel into it. Finally inching my way to the down-pipe I felt a baseball-sized sponge-ball blocking the pipe. You have to be kidding me! All of that work in the mud and the problem the whole time was a sponge-ball???

I tried to remove the ball, but it held tight. Finally suction got the best of it and down it went into the pipe. The roaring of the once-backed-up water filled the aluminum pipe and gravity took it to its next destination. The water shot out of the other end with determined force. My son was in heaven - a new mud puddle!

After a quick shower I decided it was time for the next project - paint the railing on the porch. I have been putting this one off for a while. I haven't entirely been putting this off intentionally. I coach soccer 4 days per week and it seems to rain every Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

Sunday graced us with sunshine and like a fraternity brother finding a drunk naked girl in his bed I figured I better take advantage of this opportunity. I quickly scrubbed the blackberry bird poop from the top rail and taped off the bottom. I spread an old cloth under the railing, and got out the semi-gloss exterior latex paint.

With about 400,000 balusters it was taking forever to paint. I finally made my way around the front to the side. At some point a leaf or something like that landed in my hair. A quick swipe at it resulted in excruciating pain. Then another above my eye. I think I was being bitten.

I screamed like a little girl, threw the paint brush up into the air an ran into the house. I then realized in the 0.2 seconds that had just transpired that I was being attacked by a hornet. Peeking out the window like a shy ugly girl I noticed that my neighbors across the street were looking at me with disbelief. I slowing opened the door and with interpretation hollered out - I just got attacked by a hornet. "Sure you did" came the response.

My head pounded. It felt like I had a couple of 10 penny nails tapped into my skull. I called my wife and told her that I was bitten by a hornet several times and that I think it was starting to swell. She said she'd be right home. She was at a friend's house in our neighborhood. I hadn't put the phone down 10 seconds and the front door burst open to reveal my panting hot wife in a panic thinking I was passed out on the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked. Now, I tend to be slightly dramatic. Sometimes. So it's difficult to tell when I really need help. But I thought I had clearly told her that I was bitten but I thought I as okay. Seriously - if I was allergic, wouldn't I be dead already?

Some time passed and I decided it was probably safe to return outside. I wasn't painting for 5 minutes when that little uckfer landed on my hand and bit me again! Screaming like a little girl again and lifted my skirt and hustled back inside. I was done painting.

In the evening I went outside with flashlight in mouth, a broom in one hand, and the 32 ounce bottle of jet-spray wasp and hornet killer in the other. I tapped open the cable box where I suspected the nest resided and it revealed their small home (smaller than a fist) and several hornets. I quickly bathed them in the Raid, then after taking a small break bathed them again. Take that you little uckfers!!!

I may not have wings or stingers, but I have a brain and a charge card. A hornet will never be able to overcome those obstacles in life. And so went my weekend.

Good Advice

I recently went to Rita's, home of amazing tasty Italian Ice desserts. After we had ordered and were served we stood to the side of the window to eat. It was raining and we didn't really want to eat in the car. I had the Death by Chocolate, which really should have been called Chocolaty Ice, because A) I didn't die, and B) there wasn't that much chocolate in it. My friend CC had a children's Italian Ice, and I forget what WW got.

As it was about 2pm, there weren't too many people around, so the cashier (a middle-aged man) leans out the window and starts talking to us. He asked us where we worked, then told us that we need to start buying bank stocks, because the economy is going to recover in 2010, maybe 2011, and all the money is going to be made in banks. Their stocks are going to take off!!!

We amused the cashier and told him that was really good advice and we'd check it out. But seriously? If you know the future of stocks, why are you a cashier? Not to put him down, but I only take my stock tips from certain people that I know I can trust to provide me excellent and thoughtful investing insight - like the guy at the deli counter at Food Lion, or my unemployed neighbor. These are the people at the heartbeat of the economy. They know what's happening.

To think that a cashier at Rita's knows what he's talking about. Sha!!! That'd be like Obama giving advice to Chrysler and GM on how to make cars. Oh, wait...

Dover 400 Log

I recently got to attend my first NASCAR race. Here is how it went.

Saturday

10:30 - Early to bed. Need to get a good night's rest.

Sunday

4am - Baby wakes up and executes the "See if Papa Wakes Up and Comes and Gets Me Test" to make sure that I will still attend to her if she needs me.

6:30 am - Baby decides that she should execute the same test again to see if the results are successful. I decide to get up and shower, dress, eat, and get my things together.

9:30 - I head out the door on they way to pick up my mother.

10:30 - arrive at my mother's house. This whole race thing is actually a birthday present for her. The only thing she requested for her birthday was to go to a NASCAR race. I'm the only one who wants to can take her. It takes me nearly 10 minutes to contain her as she's bouncing all around with excitement.

11:30 - we arrive in Dover. Traffic comes to a screeching halt and we inch along at a grueling pace. I've never seen so many campers parked on the shoulder of a major road in my entire life. Apparently, wherever a NASCAR race is being held you are allowed to walk around in the street with open containers of beer with your shirt off waving your Confederate flag. Yee-haw!

11:40 - Elvis has blessed us with his presence. It's amazing how Elvis shows up at these kinds of events. What's really funny is that this guy was not intentionally trying to look like Elvis.

11:45 - we are granted quick access to the track handicapped parking because my mother has one of those fake handicapped placards. Okay, it's not fake, but her knees hurt. Whatever. As long as I can park 50 yards from the entrance, I'm game.

11:50 - we rent our video scanners and headsets. They are conveniently out of the regular scanners that rent for $19 and we are forced to rent the $50 ones - provided I give them my driver's license, a major credit card, and a year's worth of Redman Chewing Tobacco.

11:55 - we make our way to our seats. Although Dover is one of the smaller tracks on the NASCAR circuit, it's still a huge place. You could put all of the yuppie polo-shirt wearing NASCAR fans drinking Samual Adams beer into the infield and not have used any space.

11:56 - we find our seat. Well, it's not really a seat. It's a quarter-mile long sheet of aluminum with numbers every 6 inches. Apparently all of the fans are supposed to sit sideways??? My mother sits and I sit next to her and we easily have used up 5 seats. I hope they don't show up.

11:59 - now that I've taken it all in, I break out my book, Valkyrie, and begin reading it. My mom continues to stare at the track and is in heaven. She's the kind of fan that would wear a shirt that says, "God must be a NASCAR fan since he gave life to Jeff Gordon."

12:35 - all 135,000 fans have now arrived. My seat by rule has shrunken to its statistically designated 6 inches. I have some cute 25-ish reddish-brown haired girl in a short skirt practically on my lap on my left side - because there's no space to sit. But I really don't mind. Really I don't. I hope she couldn't tell that I was practically breathing in her ear. It could have been worse. I could be sitting next to her fugly fat boyfriend. What's up with cute girls and fat guys??? Anyway, my mother is leaning on my other side. We're packed in.

12:45 - national anthem and the obligatory fly over of some planes. We get F-16's from New Jersey. It could have been worse. A New Jersey chemical factory could have done a fly-over.

12:55 - the opening prayer. The announcer prays to Jesus Christ asking him to protect the drivers today. I can appreciate that. I want them to be safe, too. He then thanks Jesus Christ for Dover Downs Speedway. Because you know Dover Downs Speedway was created by devine intervention. Then I get to thinking. Are there no Jews in NASCAR? Are we making a big assumption that all NASCAR drivers and fans are Christians?

1:00 - the cars start making their practice laps. Holy C-R-A-P that's loud!

1:02 - there are now 42 cars circling the track grouping up into position being led by the pace car. Holy C-R-A-P that's even LOUDER!!!

1:03 - the pace car pulls off and the race begins. The sea of rednecks rise to their feet shaking their fists and Tony Stewart hats, swearing into their Budweiser cans spitting particles of chewing tobacco into the backs of the heads of the fans in front of them. The cars hit turn one and head our way. Y-A-H-H-H THAT's LOUD!!! The cars then cut turn 1 and head into turn 2 right in front of us. SHHZZZAAAAHHH!!!!! I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF SCREAMING!!!! I immediately put on my headphones, only to be greeted by a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Great, I'm deaf. What?

I've never seen cars accelerate so fast in my life. And FAST!!!! And to think...they're ONLY going about 150 mph in the straight away. Down at Talladega their pushing +200 mph, especially without restrictor plates. Look how fast they're going!!!! (yeah, I don't think a still frame picture does this ANY justice.)

1:10 - okay, I'm bored now. It's one thing to watch a race on television where there is commentary and the camera follows different drivers. I'm looking at the same turn in loud silence. Here they come. There they go. Here they come. There they go.

1:30 - time to start focusing my attention on something other than the race to amuse myself. Hey, there's a funny redneck decked in a Dale Earnhardt Jr t-shirt and a Hendricks Motor Sports racing hat in front of us. This guy must weigh 105 pounds, but is about 6'2" tall. And he obviously lives on beer and cigarettes. He's very tan, leathery tan. With a yellow-stained mustache, probably from the cigarettes. Or too much papaya. Though he looks 47 years old I suspect he's really 22 years old and gets too much sun from teaching the outdoor life skills class at the community college. What really cracks me up is that it appears as if he thinks he's communicating directly with the drivers. He's yelling into his Miller Light, while holding his Marlboro with the other hand, shaking his hands with determination and intentional motions.

1:35 - Suddenly the Pepsi truck gets lost and races out on to the track!!! The crowd is stunned! What's really embarrassing is he passes Joe Nemechek and Mike Bliss coming around Turn 2. But give him credit. He was drafting Bliss coming into Turn 1, then did a sling-shot maneuver around both of them going high in the turn.

1:45 - someone asks the funny redneck how he can sit there without a headset to muffle the noise. He yells, "What?" After several repeats of the question, he says that you don't really need a headset cuz it ain't all that bad. You get used to it after a while. I think most people would call that hearing loss, but if he calls it 'gettin' used to it'.

2:10 - several girls keep getting in the way when I'm trying to take pictures of the cars. I should delete the pictures, but I'll display them to show you how rude they were.

2:55 - funny redneck realizes his communications equipment is malfunctioning. He's trying to get DE's attention, so he begins waving to him. I'm sure Dale is waving back, because they're good buddies and everything.

3:31 - fairly uneventful race. No big crashes. There have been a couple of cautions to remove debris from the track and one caution to pick up a CAT Diesel hat and a Budweiser can that were tossed into Turn 3.

4:21 - funny redneck is on beer #17. He's now angry at the other drivers and is yelling at them incessantly. His taunts must be working because there are several lead changes at this point. I wish I knew what he was yelling, but I'm one of those sissies that wears a headset and all I see is funny redneck giving drivers the finger and moving his lips. At one point he drops his cigarette into his Chuck Taylors that he's had since when he dropped out of high school.

4:39 - At first I thought this guy was an official NASCAR photographer. Then I realized that he is a photographer from one of Eastern Shore's newspapers (Salisbury Times?) is standing in front of us getting photos for Monday's sports edition.

4:45 - the most exciting part of the race for those of us in Turn 2 - someone hits the wall and takes another driver with him, but does a donut burnout and takes off again.

5:01 - some fans are deciding to leave early. This lady has in hand everything you would need at a NASCAR race - a bouquet of flowers.

5:24 - Funny Redneck, whom I've now named Cletus Billy Ray Pickens, is hot. His hat's now on backwards, presumably to keep the sun off of his red neck. He's on his feet giving his drivers the verbal beat-down. Don't mess with Cletus. Apparently Jimmie Johnson leading the race is a personal attack on Billy Ray's personal integrity. He ain't taking it sitting down - or at least he ain't taking it until he passes out.

At one point I hear him yell, "Dale Jr. is a gawd!" I sit puzzled for a moment. Then I realize that he said, "God".

5:55 - the race is getting interesting. There was a pit stop, throwing Jimmie Johnson into 6th place. Out of the pit they race and it's bumper to bumper. 1o laps to go. Johnson seems to be making a pass on every lap. Tony Stewart has grabbed the lead. Johnson has caught up to him. 3 laps to go. Johnson grabs the lead. Stewart gets it back. The crowd is going NUTS! The nuts are going nuts! 1 lap to go. It's neck and neck. Johnson gets ahead. He pulls away. Everyone cheers. They must hate Tony Stewart. He does drive one of them ferin' jobs - a Toyoder. Johnson wins the race. Wow!!! That was really exciting.

6:00 - 134,995 people move out of the stands. My mother and I wait. There's no sense in trying to beat them to the traffic jam.

6:15 - everyone has moved out of the stands. We make our way out and head to the car.

6:25 - we sit in the car and notice that NO ONE is moving anywhere. I convince my mother that we just sit in the car and wait it out. No sense in running the engine and burning gas. It's actually quite nice outside. It's about 70° and breezy. I read my book - and finish it.

6:40 - NOTHING has moved yet. However, some people are backing up and moving to other rows, only to find that they can't move anywhere there either. Everyone is pointing and laughing at them. There's going to be a redneck fight!

6:45 - the smart people are breaking out there barbecue grills and beer and making dinner. Note to self - if I come back to a race, bring dinner.

7:00 - just for the record - no one has moved yet.

7:15 - still - no one has moved yet.

7:25 - some cars start moving. I start my gas-guzzling SUV and pull into the traffic. I notice that the 4-lane road running through the middle of the parking lot has no one in the oncoming lanes. I decide to make this MY lane and gain about 15 car lengths. Jackass SUV driver, I know, but your punk ass is still sitting behind that diesel spewing hill billy pick-up with the Mark Martin flag hanging behind the gun rack that stacked with fishing rods.

7:35 - we FINALLY get to the main road, but it is log-jammed going north. My mother says to go south and find somewhere to eat. Good idea. I'm sure NO ONE decided to go out for dinner after the race. We find this family restaurant called Family Restaurant and pull in. It's surprisingly not too crowded. We are seated and this Asian woman is our waitress. "What you want, lady?" she asks in a thick accent.

8:00 - dinner is served. I got mozzarella sticks, fried oysters, broccoli, and mashed sweet potatoes. Hmmm.....so good! Mom pays for dinner. I think that's great, considering I've already spent about $200 for this event.

8:20 - we're back on the main road. Still a TON of traffic. However it is slowly moving. We should be home in a day or so!

9:30 - we finally make it to I-95. We're cruising!

10:00 - we see a construction sign. Work being done after Route 24. Heck, that doesn't affect us because we're getting off on Route 24. So we pass Route 543, the last exit before Route 24.

10:00:01 - traffic comes to a screeching halt. Ugh! We sit.

10:01 - and sit

10:05 - and sit

10:10 - and sit

10:15 - finally start moving. 15 miles per hour! At this pace I should have my mother home in 3 more hours!

10:20 - lane shift - right lane closed, merge left.

10:35 - we finally make it to the exit.

10:40 - mom's at home. I pee....for like 7 minutes. The toilet flushed itself 4 times without me doing anything.

10:50 - I'm back on the road. To Eldersville. I decide to forgo the wonderful construction traffic on I-95 and use backroads through Harford and Baltimore County to get to the I-695. Additionally, I like dodging deer in the middle of the night when I'm really tired and jacked up on Diet Coke.

11:55 - I finally make it home. I immediately pee for another 7 minutes.

Monday

12:02 - I take a quick shower to get the caked on oil, tire shards, and layers of Marlboro smoke off of my body.

12:05 - I hit the bed and 7 seconds later I am asleep.

12:06 (exactly 1 minute later, or so it seemed) - the alarm clock rings and it's time to get up. I throw the clock out the window at all the damned happy song birds and go back to sleep.

6:25 - Mrs. Eludius tells me to get out bed. I tell her that I'm sleeping in.

??? - I get out of bed, take another shower, get dressed a go to work.

??? - I arrive at work.

??? - I exist at work with ringing in my ears and a blind stupor hanging over me. I go to 2 meetings and have no recollection of the meetings except for the emails from attendees asking me questions about it. Uh......

I feel like crap all day. Like I'm hungover. Without having drunk any alcohol. I can't imagine how Cletus feels. Did he go to work today? Does he have a job? And is he still giving Dale tips as he rounds Turn 2?

Thursday

I think I'm finally out of the funk. Amazing how long it takes to recover. Note to self - if you go to another NASCAR race, take off the next day, you idiot!

Where You At?

Work is really starting to drive me nuts because we've had a lot of corrugating and conglomerating jobs lately, so I haven't had much time to do MY work (like blogging), only enough time to do the company's work. How unfair is that? Perhaps we should unionize. Obama could give us a controlling interest in the company like he's doing with GM and Chrysler, then at contract negotiating time we'll be on both sides of the negotiating table. "Eludius, would be happy with a 20% raise?" "Why, yes, Eludius, I would. Thank you!"

Anyway, one of my biggest pet peeves is the misuse of prepositions. It's really not that complicated, but for some reason our society doesn't get it. My dad was an English teacher and he always said, "Don't use prepositions to end sentences with" or "where do you put prepositions at?" H-y-s-t-e-r-i-c-a-l !!!

My family is no exception. I hear them say, "Where's it at?" all the time. "Where you at?" To which I respond, "I am in Bel Air at."

This always causes them to pause and say, "What? That doesn't make any sense." "I know." I love it when I get the joke and someone else doesn't.

Where are you? Where is it? That is sufficient. No need for prepositions!

Last night I was watching an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond and Raymond was butchering the English language with his misuse of prepositions. His mother started correcting him and for the remainder of the episode he had to consciously try to figure out how not to incorrectly use prepositions. It was very funny.

And Peter Boyle - Raymond's dad...did you remember him in Yellowbeard, one of the funniest dumb movies of all time? He was one of the pirates. Great movie if you've never seen it.

America's Divorce Terms

I received this in an email today.

Dear American liberals, leftists, social progressives, socialists, Marxists, Obama supporters, et al:

We have stuck together since the late 1950s, but the whole of this latest election process has made me realize that I want a divorce. I know we tolerated each other for many years for the sake of future generations, but sadly, this relationship has run its course. Our two ideological sides of America cannot, and will not, ever agree on what is right. So let's just end it on friendly terms. We can smile, chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and go our own way.

Here is a model separation agreement:
Our two groups can equitably divide up the country by landmass, each taking a portion. That will be the difficult part, but I am sure our two sides can come to a friendly agreement. After that it should be relatively easy. Our respective representatives can effortlessly divide other assets since both sides have such distinct and disparate tastes.

We don't like redistributive taxes, so you can keep them. You are welcome to the liberal judges and the ACLU. Since you hate guns and war, we'll take our firearms, the cops, the NRA and the military. You can keep Oprah, Michael Moore and Rosie O'Donnell. (You are, however, responsible for finding a biodiesel vehicle big enough to move all three of them.)

We'll keep the capitalism, corporations, pharmaceutical companies, Wal-Mart and Wall Street. You can have your beloved homeless, homeboys, hippies and illegal aliens. We'll keep the hot Alaskan hockey moms, CEOs and rednecks. We'll keep the Bibles and give you NBC and Hollywood. You can make nice with Iran and Palestine, and we'll retain the right to invade and hammer places that threaten us. You can have the peaceniks and war protesters. When our allies or our way of life are under assault, we'll help provide them security.

We'll keep our Judeo-Christian values. You are welcome to Islam, Scientology, humanism and Shirley McClain. You can also have the U.N. But we will no longer be paying the bill. We'll keep the SUVs, pickup trucks and luxury cars. You can take every Subaru station wagon you can find.

You can give everyone free health care if you can find any practicing doctors. We'll continue to believe health care is a privilege and not a right.

We'll keep the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and the National Anthem. I'm sure you'll be happy to substitute "Imagine," "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing," "Kum Ba Ya," or "We Are the World."

We'll practice trickle-down economics, and you can give trickle-up poverty your best shot.
And since it often offends you we'll also keep our history, our name, and our flag.

Would you agree to this? In the spirit of friendly parting, I'll bet you ANWAR which one of us will need help in 15 years.

Sincerely,

The Right.

The Package

This was going to be a substory to my previous post, but decided it was worthy of it's own post.

My wife and I decided not to exchange gifts this year to save money, because, despite the governments' declaration that inflation is in check, stuff costs a hell of a lot more than it did last year and money is running short. If only I could find a way to get rich by blogging! So here's the story of what my "kids" got me.

A couple of weeks before Christmas I was looking at the credit card statement online and I noticed a charge to HP for a hundred and some dollars. Curious and always suspicious I immediately emailed my wife. Do you know what this is? Yes! Okay, I'll take a hint.

That got me to thinking. What could it be? A ZZ Top key chain? Nah, HP doesn't make this. Reece Witherspoon? Nah, can't buy her. Ah - an external hard drive. I did mention that I wanted one. All those pictures I take with my Nikon D40x are starting to eat up the space on my computer's hard drive.

A few days later I was talking to my friend at work (the ENFP), and he said that he got a new printer/scanner. I mentioned that I would love to get a scanner and he said that maybe he'd give me his old one. Maybe. He's very generous. I told my wife this. I said that I could scan all my old pictures and post them on Facebook. She was thrilled. Aren't there enough pictures of you and your mullet in the world?

A couple of days later my wife is on the phone and I ask her who she's talking to. No one! Go away! What? Go Away! Why? What's going on? She smiles and repeats - GO. AWAY! Okay, okay. She's either on the phone with her boyfriend or she's talking about me. I suspect the latter.

Christmas day my kids give me this GIANT box. I open it and within 1 second 3 major thoughts go through my head at lightning speed (or so it seemed). The gift is an HP Printer, Copier, Scanner. It's really nice. However, my thoughts overtake my emotions:

1) This isn't an external hard drive. Damn, now I have to go out and buy that on my own. I wonder if Best Buy is having any post-Christmas sales on external hard drives. I wonder if Mrs. Eludius would be mad if I went out and bought one. I wonder what time Best Buy opens. Do I really want to get up early tomorrow? I'm going to be really tired after running around all day.
2) We already have a printer. Why would she get me another printer?
3) This is huge. Where am I going to put this? The space where the current printer is located is too shallow and not tall enough. If I place this next to the computer than the baby will mess with it. Can I run a line upstairs to the bedroom? I wish I had an office. I could use a computer desk with a lot of desktop space. Kevin has a nice office. If I had his office I would have no trouble finding a place to put this.

A little while later my wife mentions that I didn't seem too thrilled to receive the printer. I then realize that my thought process must have been visible externally. I didn't mean it that way. I do like it, but the logical side of me took over. I much prefer this printer to the one I have. And to have one peripheral as opposed to 2 (the scanner), this is much better. I just need to figure out the logistics of it.

So to my wife - I'm sorry I didn't act as happy as I really am. Be mad at my logical side, not my emotional side.