Runs With Scissors Meets Dances With Wolves

Texas Sunset

2010-09-11T23:46:00.001-05:00

Hawaii - The perfect place to decompress.

2010-08-23T08:12:00.001-05:00

See and download the full gallery on posterous

I'm Back......with a Vengence!

2010-07-19T09:18:00.000-05:00

Oh how I have missed you my little bloggie! I am contrite with a pocketful of apologies for neglecting you, but so many things have happened in the last six months. Life changes....good changes....ch-ch-changes period. This entry is the segue way into a more detailed post. I'll be back in two and two.

The First Time

2009-12-14T19:45:00.000-06:00

I think everyone remembers their first time. It is burned in your memory like a brand from an iron and elicits a deep emotional response when you think about it. Everyone does it for different reasons, but once the deed is done, it becomes a permanent part of your physical and spiritual being.

Of course I am talking about getting your first tattoo. Once a taboo subject that only the bad boys and girls dared to delve into, tattoos seem almost commonplace today.

The infamous "tramp stamp" being a favorite amongst novice young women who seem to be trying to fit into a mold that's not quite right. I would see these on women in dimly light dance clubs and shake my head in disbelief knowing that the pretty butterfly and flower motif would eventually morph into something akin to The Mothman Prophecies as age began to do it's thing.

But I still secretly wanted one. I wanted something that was mine; that meant something without being just a part of a trend. Six years ago I came THISCLOSE to getting one, but at the last moment opted for a piercing instead. I have always known what I wanted - two heart shaped cherries on stems. In my mind they symbolize life, love and a rebelliousness that has always simmered underneath my surface.

So I did it. I took the plunge and crossed that line. It was exhilarating and liberating, despite the initial discomfort. I feel different now, as if I have finally opened a door that has been closed and locked for a very long time. When I wipe away the cobwebs from the entryway, I see myself in a mirror....but it's not the me from before....I've changed. And I like it.

The Centurion

2009-09-11T21:59:00.008-05:00

As the one year anniversary of my grandfather Sheldon Hovis's death approaches, I would like to pay tribute to a man who truly personified the word pioneer and the significance of the years he spent here on this home we call earth.

My grandfather lived to be over 100 years old. Think about that.....100 years. He was born in March of 1908. He was alive when the Titanic sank; when the last great train robbery took place in 1912; and could have been friends with Wyatt Earp, who died in 1929. He lived to see transportation morph from horse and buggy to astronauts landing on the moon and regular launches of the space shuttle. He was was a young man during the Roaring Twenties, and survived the Great Depression. He was a cattle rancher, an oil man, and a well driller. He grew up in El Dorado, Kansas and worked his way through Texas, Oklahoma and other parts of the midwest.

I will never forget my grandfather telling me how the fire brigade would respond to calls wh

en he was a boy. He described the fire bells clanging at the building that housed both the firemen and their livestock, and how the double doors would open and out would come the fire wagon, drawn by horses that were as black as coal...firemen hanging on to the reins for dear life and the clatter of the horses hooves as they stormed down the main thoroughfare towards the location of the blaze. He described how people would come running out of their homes carrying buckets and would follow the fire wagon to provide assistance as they could. If I closed my eyes while listening to him, I could literally see the sparks flying up from the horses hooves and the whites of their eyes as they would pass by those on the street, It truly must have been a sight to behold.

My grandfather moved to Arizona permanently in 1935 with my grandmother Ella and my uncle Johnny in tow. They lived on a cattle ranch in a tent and cooked meals over an open fire. My mom came along in 1943 and helped my grandfather round up cattle and ensure they were fed and safe from danger. In the process she become an accomplished horsewoman and although she won't admit it, was a prolific barrel racing champion in her younger years.

My grandfather began losing his sight when he was still in his early fifties. By the time I was born, he was legally blind, but you would never guess that by the work he did and how hard he pushed himself to complete any task. He lived simply and took pleasure in listening to old 45 records and watching episodes of Hee Haw on television (Salute!). I spent many a day at his place going through his collection of old books and records...imagining what it must have been like to live in the days when those things were popular. He had an ancient typewriter and I would regularly pound out nonsensical letters to various people and he always promised to make sure they got delivered. My grandfather also authored a local book called "An Arizona Cowboy's Memoirs". He recited his recollections about his childhood and the early days of cattle ranching in the Arizona desert. His memory was photographic and he recalled details that most people would have long forgotten at his age

My grandfather lived on his own in Tombstone until only a couple of months before his death. I always thought it was fitting that he chose to settle in a location where the motto was "Tombstone: A Town Too Tough To Die". He attended his 100th birthday party with relish and while it was apparent that his energy was failing him, his spirits were always high. Ironically, two years previously, he spent his birthday dancing until almost midnight.....he sure did love to dance. One of the few pleasures he could still enjoy despite not having his eyesight.

My mom and step dad Ken took such good care of my grandfather. They ensured his finances were in order and took every possible measure to preserve his independence for as long as possible. My grandfather never wanted to be a burden and I know that fear must have weighed heavy on his mind as he grew older. He lived in the same little house in Tombstone for many, many years. And while it was not a palace, it was simple and plain and met his needs.

I think I still have a lot to learn about life by observing how my grandfather lived. He lived in the moment and appreciated the simple things in life. He was loved by many and made an indelible heart shaped footprint on a large number on people's lives. While he was not one to express his emotions very openly, I knew he was proud of me and my mother, and the things we had accomplished in our lives. I cherish those moments where he let me play on his tractor as a child; where he set up a mini-welding work space for me in his workshop; how he knew how much I liked marbles and was always on the look out for any additions to add to my collection.

So Gramps, this post is dedicated to you and all you accomplished in your time on earth. You are dearly missed, but I know one day we will all see each other again.

What's a Butt Monkey?

2009-09-10T20:34:00.004-05:00

Time for a random blog post:

I love Beavis and Butthead and I am not afraid to admit it. I spent many a night after clubbing watching them in the wee morning hours on MTV (before MTV got swallowed up by Cribs, Dumb Dating shows and The Hills). You remember those days, right? When they actually played music videos during most hours and then showed Aeon Flux and other cool animation in the late night "Liquid Television" series.

But I digress. Finally a show that truly captured the essence of many of the high school (and junior high) adolescent males I encountered in my youth. Let's face it...a 16 year old male may not necessarily LOOK like these two clowns on the outside, but were mirror images on the inside. In some cases the physical resemblance to people I knew in my youth was uncanny.

Beavis and Butthead provided fodder for MONTHS of jokey sarcasm regarding Butt Monkeys, Butt Burglars, Ass Goblins and Winger (notice the trend). A co-worker and I went for months calling each other Butt Monkeys while other colleagues looked at us like we had tripped on acid. In addition to being useful as "terms of endearment", I have whipped out the occasional "Ass Goblin" reference on individuals who were being particularly annoying and basked in their complete surprise and utter lack of ability to respond to such a random and unexpected insult. The best reaction is when they turn around to look behind them...like there really is a goblin perched on their nether region. C-L-A-S-S-I-C!

I think I need to go buy the Beavis and Butthead collection on Amazon.

An Argument for Breast Implants

2009-09-05T12:21:00.006-05:00

I don't think anyone would disagree that work related conferences have the potential to be snoozefests. Even I will admit to have done the occasional head bob dozing in an especially dry presentation. One time I almost fell out of my chair and it was only the quick intervention of my work colleague grabbing my arm that kept me upright and spared me from being the butt of numerous conference jokes.

As luck would have it, I just finished a week long conference in the Valley of the Sun. One of the perks of a conference are the networking events designed to enable you to schmooze and press the flesh with other attendees. One of the annual events that is a part of this conference each year is the President's Ball. It is a semi-formal affair and often times very reminiscent of a senior prom.

So I am invited to sit at the President's table as a guest, which put me right next to the dance floor. The DJ was spinning some great songs and there was a lot of people out on the floor shaking their groove thing. All was well in the world.....for now.

Flash forward 3 hours and who knows how many bottles of wine later. The DJ has gotten a salsa/old school rap thing going and the dance floor is packed. I am dancing with two other people (NOTE: Group dancing was designed for all of us third wheels so we could have fun too) and I spy something across the dance floor. I had not been drinking gallons of wine, but I also did not have my glasses on...so I stopped dancing and looked harder. I flagged down the girl who was part of our dancing "trio" and pointed it out to her. All of a sudden it hit both of us at the same time: Someone had lost their bra inserts and they were now laying on the dance floor. Instantly we both reach up to our own chests to do a check (despite the fact we were,'t wearing any). We then looked around the floor and everyone seemed oblivious to the falsies on the floor.

I could not let this moment go unshared, and rushed off the dance floor to tell our table. By the time I had pointed the unfortunate falsies out, a guy who had been drinking wine straight from the bottle and was dancing barefoot, had managed to get one of them stuck to the bottom of his foot. Using moves that have until now only been seen on Dancing with the Stars, he attempted to dislodge the insert (which now resembled a beat up veal cutlet) without disrupting his dance routine. It truly was a sight to behold. Unfortunately, he was not having much success.

The big mystery now is WHO did those inserts belong to? No one left the dance floor when they magically appeared on the floor, and in fact, no one else besides myself, the girl I was dancing with, Rico Suave and the people sitting at our table even noticed them. I wonder what type of dance move you have to do that will dislodge bra inserts? You have to give whoever owned them credit because they apparently kept right on dancing....those are what I call nerves of steel (or way too much alcohol).

The "C" Word

2009-08-02T08:16:00.011-05:00

Yesterday I found out that a person I used to work with, Mistress X, has Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. This information has me confused and somewhat remorseful. You see, Mistress X and I's working relationship could be defined much like that of The Joker and Batman.

She was the first person I had ever encountered in the work environment who knew how to play dirty pool and did so with relish. I was still wet behind the ears as a manager and initially held on to the belief that good would prevail over the dark spell she cast across our department. Some of the things she did hurt other people deeply and it seemed she would take joy and pride in how much damage she could do to those she deemed "unworthy". Once it was clear that no one was going to rescue us, I would methodically plot steps for my self preservation and those of others who had the misfortune of displeasing her, planting minefields along the way and hoping she would step on one large enough to topple her from her throne. The office became a battleground between two camps: Light and Dark.

Mistress X eventually fell....done in by an ego that was big enough to accommodate herself and a large SUV of fellow villains. She left the company in shame, followed quickly by several of her devotees.

But she has cancer now. A type of cancer that is particularly cruel and excruciating. According to the Mayo Clinic, Stage 4 cancer is described as:

" Cancer has spread to distant sites beyond the pancreas, such as the liver, lungs and the lining that surrounds your abdominal organs (peritoneum)."

And the prognosis is dark and horrifying:

Jaundice. Pancreatic cancer that blocks the liver's bile duct can cause jaundice. Signs include yellow skin and eyes, dark-colored urine and very pale stools. Your doctor may recommend that a plastic or metal tube (stent) be placed inside the bile duct to hold it open. In some cases a bypass may be needed to create a new way for bile to flow from the liver to the intestines.
Pain. A growing tumor may press on nerves in your abdomen, causing pain that can become severe. Pain medications can help you feel more comfortable. Radiation therapy may help stop tumor growth temporarily to give you some relief. In severe cases, your doctor may recommend a procedure to inject alcohol into the nerves that control pain in your abdomen (celiac plexus block). This procedure stops the nerves from sending pain signals to your brain.
Bowel obstruction. Pancreatic cancer that grows into or presses on the small intestine (duodenum) can block the flow of digested food from your stomach into your intestines. Your doctor may recommend a tube (stent) be placed in your small intestine to hold it open. Or bypass surgery may be necessary to attach your stomach to a lower point in your intestines that isn't blocked by cancer.
Weight loss. A number of factors may cause weight loss in people with pancreatic cancer. Nausea and vomiting caused by cancer treatments or a tumor pressing on your stomach may make it difficult to eat. Or your body may have difficulty properly processing nutrients from food because your pancreas isn't making enough digestive juices.
Death. Pancreatic cancer leads to death for most people diagnosed with the disease. Even people diagnosed when their cancer is at an early stage face a high risk of recurrence and death.

Even in our most extreme battles, where we would attempt to discredit each other and professionally drag each other's reputations through the mud, I never wished her physical harm beyond a well deserved swift ass kicking.

But I feel guilty now. As if I had something to do with her diagnosis. And to make the situation worse, she has a one year old child. I am so very lucky to still have my mother in my life - I can't imagine a world without her. This little girl will most likely grow up without the luxury of having her birth mother pick her up when she falls and skins her knees or comfort her when she experiences her first heart break.

I feel an urge to write Mistress X...to let her know I am thinking of her, but I am not sure she would want to hear from me. Would my contacting her as a result of my own feelings of insecurity and mortality only make her feel worse? I am torn inside...sad for her situation, secretly glad it's not me, then awash in guilt for my gladness. I have had my own brush with The "C" Word and nothing has made me feel more vulnerable or frightened. Why have I made it and she most likely will not?

What’s Your Zombie Contingency Plan? 11 Practical Strategies

2009-08-01T23:55:00.004-05:00

This is one of the funniest articles I have read in years. If you like zombie movies, you will get it. If you don't, good luck when the zombie apocalypse happens.m

By: Robert Brockway
April 15th, 2009

Cracked.com

All the men (and most women) I know have one thing in common: They have a zombie contingency plan. If the zombies arise tomorrow, everybody has at least a hazy outline of what, exactly, they would do to survive the coming onslaught. It's the single best part about the zombie mythos: planning your strategy. So I asked everybody I could think of to submit their own zombie contingency plans, and this is but a small sample of what I received:

The "I Had a Good Plan But Then I Tripped" Stratagem

By Robert Brockway

Since I'm planning on criticizing the plans submitted, it's only fair that I go first. My zombie contingency plan:

I live in the inner city, so I'm pretty well fucked. But I also live in Oregon, which is somewhat sparsely populated outside of the cities. The only way to survive is to get out as fast as possible. To that end, I've looked around and I know that I live within a few blocks of three important things. First is the Gun Room, the scariest fucking gun shop in America. If you want to kill something, the Gun Room not only has the supplies to do it, but they'd probably do it for you at a reasonable fee (caution: "reasonable fees" as dictated by the insane may vary greatly in their definition of "reasonable"). One block away from the Gun Room is the fur supplier/taxidermist. Apart from having warm, tough, weatherproof hides aplenty, they also have complete hunting/survival materials and several items that could make great melee weapons, from old decorative lumberjacking gear to a giant stuffed moose head (come on, what it lacks in practicality it more than makes up for in style). Two blocks away from the Gun Room is the Post Office, and the Post Office has a lot of fully-fueled, well-maintained, simple, rugged vehicles in their high-fenced back lot. They have the keys on premises, and all vehicles have very few windows, but a lot of storage space for supplies. Some of the newer ones do not have driver's side doors, but the older ones have pure steel driver's side doors with old school bolt-locks. They get fair gas mileage, are unlikely to break down and can handle rugged conditions.

I know the backroads to get through to these areas, and I would not leave my transport until I reached them. I would load up on guns, ammo and hunting/outdoor supplies, then grab a Post Office truck and take those same backroads out east where civilization thins out a bit. Once there, I would raid one of the many towns along the off-routes that have populations among the dozens, if that. A small pharmacy, a feed market and a grocery store are all you need now that you're supplied with gear and out of the city. There are plenty of those around, so I wouldn't waste time grabbing anything in a danger zone as hot as the city. Even a roadside gas station has first aid kits, batteries, flashlights and packaged food. I would pick my way back to Central Oregon around the Indian reservations where there is fertile ground and high, flat plateaus in the middle of otherwise even plains. High ground to defend, structures already built, out of the way and you can see anybody coming from literally miles away. In the winter it gets cold enough to freeze, but no blizzards or white out conditions exist. I would wait for the winter and see where to go from there--move north and hope for more permanent settlement or just wait out the worst of it until control is restored.

Pros: It is awesome.

Cons: I once ran face-first into a sliding glass door. I am not competent enough to do any of this. I would probably trip over my own feet and stumble slapstick-style into an undead group hug.

The "I Will Miss You Dearly" Stratagem

By Meagan (my girlfriend)

When the zombies appear and start messing with everything, I'm going to rely on you to have planned everything related to our survival. I'll steal a pair of Wheelies to wear so I can glide away when I need to make a speedy exit, but I'll still have good traction when running. I'm also going to pack up our nice sheets because I'm sure you never thought about what linens we would be sleeping on while we're on the run. Before the Internet goes down, I'll get right on making our Zombie Mix CD. Can we have Fiber One yogurt in the zombie apocalypse? Being constipated wouldn't help our cause out any...

Pros: It is adorable.

Cons: You will be dead within minutes.

The "Feed the Elderly (to Zombies)" Strategem

By Jennifer Bonesteel

Well, I workout everyday so that I can be faster than a slowly moving shuffle. I also try to hang out with at least one person who is slower than me (obese or elderly) so that when the zombies attack I can leave them to be eaten. I'll miss my grandma, but a zombie apocalypse is no laughing matter.

Pros: Check the byline, again.That's her real name. Jennifer. Fucking. BONESTEEL. I have no doubt she will not only survive the apocalypse intact, but quite possibly will do so in a silver rhinestone tanktop, and eventually end up running a methane fueled trading post with a mentally handicapped giant and a little person.

Cons: Lacks detail. Sure you're going to feed them old people, but where are you going to feed them those old people, and which old people go first? Details are important. Not like old people.

The "Eternal Sausage Party" Stratagem

By Thomas Simmons

Start of the outbreak.

Destroy the steps to my front porch, and barricade the first floor windows of my house. Wait for the shit to hit the fan, get as many friends and loved ones over to safety.

Few days later.

After the mass panic has resided a bit, mainly due to more people being infected and dying, scavenge as many supplies as possible. I live in a large fraternity house, so staying put may not be such a bad idea. Load up on food, guns, ammo and supplies. If the outlook for the house is bleak, attempt to clear out and move in to one of the large freshman dorms that were fallout shelters during the cold war.

Weeks later.

Start a small farming operation on the roof of the building, or the court yard of the house, depending on the location.

Months later.

If still alive, attempt to lower the zombie population--i.e. kill the fuck out of them--and look for survivors.

Years later.

Start over? kill as many zombies as possible.

Pros: Low expectations. There is no grand scheming here to distract from the day to day survival, and the simpler a plan of action is, the less there is to go wrong.

Cons: You are stuck with frat guys forever. "James Bro-lin, that sounds like a sausage party! Who brought the chicks?" "It's the zombie apocalypse, Broseph Stalin, no reason we can't have a kegger!" And so on. You will last two days before the madness takes you.

The "Hope My Head Will Explode Shortly Before Theirs Does" Stratagem

By Davis Fyke

Basically using my access to multiple arms and my connections with the chief of police, I would hunker down in the armory with my guns and crack. All I really need anyways.

Pros: Guns.

Cons: Crack.

The "Don't Feed The Animals" Stratagem

By Sarah

Luckily there is a retirement home/community only a few blocks from my house. Plenty of applesauce and boardgames for me; plenty of slow and senile people for the zombies.

Pros: Another plan that relies heavily on feeding old people to the undead. It is nice to see that practicality is taking front seat here, with such concerns as "love" or "morality" in the back. Way Back. Like in a trailer. At the gas station. Twenty-two miles ago. Which is now covered in zombies.

Cons: Again, lacking in details. It seems like everybody planning on using the elderly as zombie chaff have little else to go off of. What happens when the elderly run out? Much like feeding wild animals, you have taught the zombies to rely on your location to provide free food. The difference here being that when you show up without food for the pigeons, their revolt does little but soil your suit, whereas if you show up empty handed to a zombie feeding, you end up being that which they soil their suits with.

The "Get By With a (Very) Little Help From My Friends" Stratagem

By Brett Jones

Alright my plan is actually overall very simple, but is broken down into several steps so that they can be altered based on a few factors: the type of outbreak, heavily infested areas which would be to dangerous to attempt at passing, survivor error or random events out of our control.

Step 1: Determine the type of outbreak.

Is this an airborne strain? Is it necromancy? Is it passed mainly through bites or can in be transferred by clawing or open wounds? Is this the fault of a biological weapons facility under the guise of a pharmaceutical company? This also applies to what type of zombies are we dealing with? Are they fast? Are they smart? Can they climb? Have there been odd mutations in the strain causing almost superhuman alterations in some of the victims? Once all these factors are determined, THEN and only then may you proceed, because if you just run out of your house waving a machete in hopes that you'll make it, you'll be deader than Liam Neeson's wife. (Too soon?)

(Editor's Note: Yes, yes it is. But fear not, there will be little room for political correctness in the zombie apocalypse. Zombies are a notoriously "blue crowd." Get it? There's always time for a zinger!)

Step 2: Gather your team.

We've all thought about it. If you're reading these plans right now, you've thought about it. If there is an outbreak, who will you take, and who will you leave behind? Sadly enough this usually means leaving your parents and siblings behind unless they have some sort of useful skill. That is all what it boils down to. Do they have a useful skill? It's a good idea to bring a wide range of skilled persons with you. Bring the strong, the intelligent and even bring yourself a couple of slow moving people to put a bit of meat between you and the horde of ravenous bastards. It's important, though, to not bog your team down with too many useless members. You may still have some shred of humanity left in you that makes you want to save that child, but he's just going to slow you down. Try to keep your team tight and essential.

Step 3: Get some supplies.

Unless you plan on eating canned cranberry sauce for years and beating the infected away with rocks, chances are you're going to need some supplies. The smart zombie survivor already has at least a bladed weapon and a bit of food at the ready, but it won't last you very long. After your team is together you should head towards a large department store such as Super Target, Wal-Mart or Costco but be sure to scope it out first. Big store means a lot of customers which means a lot of infected. Remember your goal is to survive not be reckless. Now places like Wal-Mart all have an outdoor survival section and this should be your first stop. Grab axes, machetes, saws and everything that might be an essential. Next grab tools and medical supplies and then finally grab food. You're looking for food that will last a long time, canned food, cereal etc.

Step 4: Move to safety.

Now the common tactic for zombie safety is to find a military base or a heavily fortified area nearby. That's not enough. With the amount of people who will turn infected you'll quickly find yourself overrun by the horde. The safest option is to steal a puddlejumper aircraft (or befriend some one who can fly a plane) and get to either Hawaii or Alaska. I'm going with Hawaii on this one. One of the small islands is best. Being disconnected from the mainland, there is a good chance that the infection hasn't spread that far, and if it HAS then with a smaller population to deal with it will be easier to hold back the horde. Yes it is very important when on the island to locate a heavily fortified structure and build up your defenses but it is equally important to locate a supply of food, and tools.

Step 5: Stay smart and stay safe.

Now it is a matter of waiting it out. No doubt you will lose some allies. This comes with the territory. The important part is that you stay alive. Keep your base of operations organized and send out for supplies only when needed. Clear the corpses from the base and always keep someone awake to look out. And always keep your weapons on the up and up. Like Three Dog says "Never forget the importance of periodic weapon maintenance; rifle, pistol, police baton, I don't care which. If your weapon is falling apart, the only wasteland asshole it's going to kill is you. So be smart. Salvage those parts and make repairs whenever you can."

Pros: Comprehensive, complete and largely lacking in any of that pesky mercy or distracting human sentiment.

Cons: Largely lacking in human sentiment means you are unlikely to "befriend" anybody, much less a puddlejumper pilot, who will, regardless, have nowhere near enough fuel to get to Hawaii. You will die together 1/4 of the way there, silently despising one another as you sink into the ocean.

The "I'm on a boat, motherfucker!" Stratagem

By Chris Butler

So I go to school in Maine, and I'm right on the coast. I have a couple of family members who live further up the coast of Maine on an island that's pretty much 95 percent redneck hicks, and five percent deer. The plan is essentially this: When the zombie outbreak finally does occur, my cousins are going to hijack the ferry used to shuttle cars from the mainland to the island. They're going to float her down the coast until they get to my school. Myself, and any other unsullied survivors will swim out to the ferry, where we will begin the trip back to the island where we will make our stand. The amount of guns, alcohol and pissed-off lobster men will ensure a small amount of relative safety until winter, when the zombies freeze. Resupply missions will then be sent out to look for survivors and other food. Sadly, or perhaps fortunately, I have discussed this plan in great length with my cousins.

Pros: The ferry transport is a great idea for an organized evacuation.

Cons: Unless you know some ferry captains, you're probably not getting out of the docks. Survivors swimming to boat could be infected. Lobster men are notoriously unreliable folk, unless you're referring tothe new roster of the Crash Test Dummies. Those guys are fucking solid.

The "It's Even Fireproof Because Fire Needs Oxygen to Thrive" Stratagem

By Jeff Shock

Technically I have two zombie plans: fast zombie (a la 28 Days Later) or slow zombies (like Shaun of the Dead). The fast zombie is pretty simple: First, get food and supplies such as Spaghetti-o's, canned foods, Twinkies, etc. Then procure a nice bank vault and a shotgun.

The slow zombie is a bit more in-depth: Walk (briskly) to a mountainous area that's hard to climb. I seriously doubt I'll need to run. Also, it might be preferable to go to a mountain in Alaska as the cold temperatures added to their already low body temps could turn them to corpse-sicles

Pros: Multiple plans for multiple scenarios. Too often we fall victim to the arrogant assumption that we know what the zombie apocalypse will be like.

Cons: Bank vault = low on oxygen, low on supplies and hard to gain access to. Alaskan mountain = also hard to gain access to... unless you live on an Alaskan mountain. In which case, you're most likely there precisely because of the fear of something like a zombie apocalypse, and so probably also have your stores, weapons and hermit-like persona at the ready. You have made your plan and are living it, so congratulations! (P.S. Sweet beard and flannel shirt, Alaskan native! You totally don't look psycho or nothin'!)

The "Human Produce" Stratagem

By Patrick Knasiak

Step 1: Gather "homies" and attempt to keep said "homies" to a decent boy/girl ratio.

Step 2: Gather weapons. We were going to do this by getting my friend's husband to donate all his crazy-ass hunting equipment, so we would have the guns themselves, in addition to the ammo and the ability to make more ammo ('cause most drunken hunters make their own ammo.)

(Editor's Note: This is a terrifying factoid.)

Step 3: Invade a grocery store, preferably one that is bigger then a local grocery store, but not as big as a Wal-Mart. The reason being that Wal-Marts usually have an insane number of entrances/exits, while the smaller ones don't have enough food to sustain said "homies." Also, attempt to find a grocery store that has a liquor license, because let's be honest, what's more fun then blowing the heads of the undead while drunk off your ass?

Then it's pretty much just barricading the doors with a heavy object (we figured the ice machine would be heavy enough to block the doors, and big enough to cover the whole door. If your ice machine isn't big enough, then proceed to blow the fuck out of any zombies that try to get in, then use their rotting bodies as a natural barricade; the smell will be annoying at first, but not as annoying as being eaten alive by your dead grandmother). Finally, use the phone to contact others that perhaps have more guns.

NOTE: If no one is reachable by phone, then hook a music playing device to the overhead speakers and blast some heavy ass death metal, because not only is it fun to kill things while listening to death metal, its also a great way for passersby of an un-zombified nature to know that there are other non-zombies occupying the structure.

Pros: It's always good to know a drunken, mentally unstable ammunition maker. Your plan, from the corpse-barricade to the simple aside that it is "always fun to kill things while listening to death metal," terrifies me.

Cons: Grocery stores use display windows as basic marketing tools. The front of nearly every grocery store, regardless of size, is made up of large glass planes to show off the merchandise. It's the same logic that put those windows there in the first place that is going to screw you: It's there to put food on display.

The "Uh...what was that first part again?" Stratagem

By Tanya Silander

Authors note:

I am writing this from a fully and completely realistic point of view, I add none of the frivolous magical properties of a ghoul or zombie, and disregard the illogical completely. The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks, takes the first part of the book explaining the virus "Solanum," and I am going to work off of that idea, using the same name. It is that concept alone that I am working with; that it is a virus. All other concepts are completely scientifically based and we will explore the possibility that a virus such as Solanum exists in nature and that it has the ability to infect a hosts brain cells (neurons), first by entering the circulatory system via bodily fluid interaction of an infected individual and an uninfected individual, and finally making its way to the neuronal cells and manipulating said cells. I will disregard the communicability of 100 percent used in the book in favor of a more realistic number, 99.4 percent as used in The Stand by Stephen King for a man-made virus (given that that is the most likely scenario for the creation of this virus). Critics may say that this is not a "zombie" contingency plan, and to them I say nay, it depends on your definition of "zombie." Plus, I find the idea of realism much more horrifying than fiction. Fiction you can brush off as being something implausible... The following may be fiction, but it is very plausible.

Skip this if you don't give a fuck about biology:

In order to realistically write a zombie contingency plan, one must have knowledge of how a zombie functions in order to exploit their weaknesses and predict their attacks. I am telling everybody right fucking now, the anatomy of the zombies outlined in The Zombie Survival Guide is impossible. The zombies would disintegrate, with cells lysing on a scale so grand that there is no way they could eat you/pass on the virus before turning into a pile of mush, let alone have the capacity of movement. Therefore, I am about to discredit any possibility in the known world for a human body to function without the proper systems in place. A virus is considered "pseudoliving" which means that it is not technically alive by the standards of science. Without the host cells machinery, a virus cannot grow or replicate. Thus, a virus must take control of the host cells machinery and use that machinery to create its own DNA and subsequent proteins. This hinges on one very important point, the cell must function as it has always functioned. It needs glucose, fat or protein to begin the aerobic respiration that uses oxygen as a final electron acceptor in the path to making ATP (energy) to run the metabolic processes of the cell.

The implications of this are great, the zombie has to have working lungs to bring oxygen into the system, working circulatory system to transfer said oxygen along with nutrients and wastes, and systems which can eliminate said wastes. This brings into light the very real weaknesses of the zombie. It must be "living" for all intents and purposes, but that does not mean it will be easy to kill. Here's the kicker: The virus can manipulate the cells. The neuronal cells that stop replicating in adult humans are once again capable of regeneration, a virus can lie dormant in a cell for very long periods of time (as evidenced by HIV, which progresses into AIDs once the virus decides to lyse the cells releasing the virus into the system) and make the cell replicate with viral DNA in the nucleus creating hundreds of cells with viral DNA in them. This means the virus will make the neuronal cells replicate, creating millions of new neurons each with viral DNA in them, each with the ability to control more of the processes of the human brain. One may also imply that the zombie is much smarter than your average human being, with a larger number of neuronal cells capable of propagating larger numbers of signals at a faster speed. I contest the idea that zombies are stumbling creatures with an off-kilter gate and little hand-eye coordination.

I believe that this hypothetical virus would create extremely intelligent humans which it would have full control over, by producing the proteins and enzymes of its own DNA rather than that of the original cell, it would be fully plausible that the human infected with this virus would be controlled by the desires of the virus, which would be to infect new hosts. Also, the infected individual would not be the same person they were in their lives with everything from memories to basic wants and desires being manipulated and changed by the virus. The zombie would also have a heightened set of sensory systems, and it's plausible that the neural signals from their external body are blocked by the virus in the CNS, reducing and possibly eliminating the effects of pain or touch sensation. Furthermore, they may act with a hive mentality, working towards a common goal (and remember, they're smart), and their circulatory system may be routed in order to increase the amount of blood to the muscles, increasing their strength and agility. The most horrific realization: They may look completely normal. The virus does not necessarily impact their vocal chords, and they would look like a regular human being. Their behavior would be notably different, but they could pass the virus on before the realization of what has happened is fully recognized.

Contingency Plan

With this knowledge in place, we can begin to determine what will and what will not work. Quarantines will be key in containing the virus to large areas (in the range of regions to complete countries). Given our inability to distinguish the zombies from the humans, large quarantine areas will be key. All air and sea ports should be shut down, and control of the army and air bases is essential. A 99.4 percent communicable virus can most likely become airborne, especially since viral particles are pseudoliving and can enter a dormant stage if not active in a cell (such is the case when they are housed within a water molecule, such as on a humid day). Dry climates are best due to such conditions, especially since a zombie lacks any other desire than to pass on its virus and thus does not drink, dehydration would be a good way to defeat them. Other ways to kill the zombies via natural causes would be to expose them to harsh environmental conditions, such as the extreme hot or cold, high saline, low/high pH and anoxic environments all fit the bill. Thus, the best areas to flee to would be the deserts, the higher and lower altitudes and the poles. The worst places would be the mountains, valleys, jungles and tropics.

Also, since they are human we can kill them if it comes down to that. We would want to see them coming given that a more intelligent being would outsmart us in a terrain war using the mountains or valleys. The plains and deserts are ideal for such a situation. Saskatchewan, where you can watch your dog run away for three days, is a good place to be for a zombie apocalypse. This is where the plan gets sleazy and corrupt. We need to get rid of these zombies before they kill us all, and we have to do it in a way that causes the least amount of damage, least bloodshed (especially into the water systems; I'll say it again, viruses are pseudoliving, they can live in the soil and water forever until it attaches to a host cell whose machinery it can manipulate) and the most successful. Thus we will need two plans, one for "the bait" and one for "the survivors." You're reading the survivors guide. The bait will be those that believe a virus can evoke a stage of being "undead" in which these things cannot be killed and the mountains and valleys should be used to hide from and trick them.

The survivors guide is for those that know these fuckers are smarter than us, and would kick our ass in a terrain based war of wit. Trust me, this is necessary. Think of the people we could get to follow the bait guide? Bush, Hannah Montana, the Jonas Brothers, etc. Man, I'm beginning to WELCOME the zombie apocalypse. Anyways, we can lure the zombies into the valleys and mountains, from there dams can be taken out and landslides created provided we still have control of the army bases (I thank you Wright brothers). Meanwhile, safe zones can be created and established in areas where the weather would kill any remaining zombies in a disposable manner (such as through freezing, and might I add that if you freeze a zombie it would be much like freezing a human, where the plasma and extra/intracellular fluid freezes into crystals which would tear the cells apart resulting in death). Due to the high communicability, the zombie bodies will have to be destroyed, I'm thinking a controlled nuclear blast in the areas the zombies were lured to. Fire is a good way to kill a virus, since even the pseudoliving cannot deny the destructive powers of heat to proteins which make up their outer coat. Thus, to the areas where any remaining zombies fled to and eventually died due to extreme environmental conditions, let the forest fires reign.

Note: this plan is kind of geared toward North and South America following the quarantine, it can be applied to Europe as well. Japan, if they got hit with this virus, they're kind of screwed. Britain, you're screwed. Australia... well you guys have all that poisonous stuff, so I'm pretty sure the zombies are afraid of you. China, fucking nuke them if this happens, because with that high of a population they are fucked. Canada, Russia and the Scandinavian countries will pull through nicely, and the US, if you guys don't go all batshit on me, you'll be alright (I'm talking to you Utah, you and your Mormons, lol.)

Pros: Holy shit. Easily the most well thought out, well reasoned response received. Logical, intelligent and practical.

Cons: You're no fun. You ruined zombies! You ruined everything and I don't like this game anymore and I'm going home.

Slogan Hell

2009-07-20T09:24:00.002-05:00

I decided it was time to post something where I am not the butt end of a joke or embarrassing situation. Take a look at these 13 shining moments in advertising history where catchy slogans used here in the US did not quite translate as expected in other countries:

13) When Parker Pen marketed a ball-point pen in Mexico, its ads were supposed to have read, "It won't leak in your pocket and embarrass you." The company thought that the word "embarazar" (to impregnate) meant to embarrass, so the ad read: "It won't leak in your pocket and make you pregnant."

12) Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign: "Nothing Sucks like an Electrolux."

11) Clairol introduced the "Mist Stick," a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that "mist" is slang for manure. Not too many people had use for the "Manure Stick."

10) Coors put its slogan, "Turn It Loose," into Spanish, where it was read as "Suffer From Diarrhea."

9) Pepsi's "Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation" translated into "Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back From the Grave" in Chinese.

8) When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the US, with the smiling baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the labels of what's inside, since many people can't read.

7) Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called Cue, the name of a notorious porno magazine.

6) Frank Perdue's chicken slogan, "It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken," was translated into Spanish as "it takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate."

5) When American Airlines wanted to advertise its new leather first class seats in the Mexican market, it translated its "Fly In Leather" campaign literally, which meant "Fly Naked" (vuela en cuero) in Spanish.

4) An American T-shirt maker in Miami printed shirts for the Spanish market which promoted the Pope's visit. Instead of "I saw the Pope" (el Papa), the shirts read "I Saw the Potato" (la papa).

3) The Dairy Association's huge success with the campaign "Got Milk?" prompted them to expand advertising to Mexico. It was soon brought to their attention the Spanish translation read "Are You Lactating?"

2) General Motors had a very famous fiasco in trying to market the Nova car in Central and South America. "No va" in Spanish means, "It Doesn't Go".

1) The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as "Kekoukela", meaning "Bite the Wax Tadpole" or "Female Horse Stuffed with Wax", depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent "kokoukole", translating into "Happiness in the Mouth."

We Know Why You Fly

2009-07-20T02:42:00.011-05:00

I have finally decided that a higher power is trying to tell me that I should turn in my American Airlines frequent flier miles and avoid future travel with that carrier. Against my better judgement (and to avoid a plane change in Albuquerque on my new favorite airline Southwest), I opted for a non-stop jaunt from The Big D into Tucson. The ride into Tucson went smoothly, although they held us in the tarmac for an extra 30 minutes prior to departure. You gotta love it when there are bags checked for passenger John Doe, but he's not on the plane. The problem is eventually resolved and the flight attendants begin their pre-flight announcements.

As is my usual routine, I took my Dramamine and fell asleep the minute the plane took off. I woke up as we skidded into Tucson International Airport - not a bad way to travel, especially when there are lots of cranky babies on board. Not so good when the plane never leaves the airport (see previous post).

This afternoon I headed back to the airport for the routine flight home, but could not shake a feeling that something was not going to go right on this final leg of the trip. Perhaps it was the fact that when I checked in online, the boarding pass would not print in a font size that was readable. To an OCD traveler - this is a big deal. We get to the airport, take some pictures and I hug the family and we say our goodbyes. I head off to security and they head back to the homestead over an hour away. The gate area is packed...this flight has obviously been oversold and I wait for the usual volunteer requests for travel vouchers in exchange for seats. Instead, 10 minutes after we are supposed to be boarding, the gate agent announces that a line of thunderstorms are approaching DFW airport and all flights in and out of that location have been delayed or re-routed to alternate locations. Our flight has now been delayed an hour.

Thunderstorms equal turbulence. Turbulence equals motion sickness. Motion sickness equals agony. Having already taken my usual dose of my trusty Dramamine upon arriving at the airport, I realize that it will most likely begin to wear off before the plane gets into the air and I would be in for a world of hurt. So I decide to take a half dose as a back up...just in case.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for all of you on flight 666 to DFW, we are canceling this flight (insert devilish laughter similar to The Count on Sesame Street). Please make your way to the ticket counters at gates A7 and A8 to arrange for alternate flights."

Flashback to the disaster that was my non-trip to NYC. Except this time I am not at home. I call the Customer Service number for American and am told that there are no flights on any airline going into DFW at this time. They could; however, book me on a flight with United that would take me to Denver, where I would then change planes and take a later flight into Dallas that night IF THE WEATHER PERMITTED. Nice...let's roll the dice and and see just how far away from your final destination we can leave you stranded. The only alternative is to get on a flight the following day, but they can't assign me a seat until I come back and check in at the airport.

I attempt to reach my mom on her cell phone; however, I get a recording that says this customer is not available. My stomach begins to churn. I call her home phone and leave a message - knowing that it will be at least an hour and a half before they receive it...and another hour and a half before they can come back and pick me up.

The Dramamine is really kicking in at this point. Thank goodness Tucson has free WiFi access. I power up the Mac and struggle to stay awake as I read news and periodically post updates on Facebook and Twitter. Before I become incoherent, I shoot off a quick email from my GMail account to my new boss and my fellow manager who covered for me on Friday (Like everyone at work needs to know my cheesy MSN email address). She calls me and reassures me that she will handle everything until I get back.

Struggling to keep my eyes open.....Not...going...to...make...it. I resort to taking pictures with my iPhone, which become increasingly blurry as my hand/eye coordination tanks.

(I really wasn't hateful that this little family of backpackers had made it to their destination with no issues......really).

My mom calls and wakes me out of my daze. They are heading back to the airport to pick me up and will be there...in an hour and 15 minutes. We agree on a meeting point and I pack up all my gear and make my way down towards the baggage claim area. I park myself in a chair right outside of the door and wait..and wait...wait...wait....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The next thing I know, my mom is calling to let me know they will be there in a few minutes. I apparently was asleep, head lolling off to the side, with a very attractive accessory of drool sliding down my chin.

I bet I made a classy looking first impression for people coming in and out of that baggage claim area.

I am considering writing to American to advise them to change their slogan from "We know why you fly" to "Fly American - The odds of arriving at your destination are better than a game of Craps".

Punkin's Mug

2009-07-17T21:41:00.006-05:00

Some more recent pictures of the PunkinMunchkin

De Plane! De Plane!

2009-06-27T13:09:00.013-05:00

The following story is true. Only the names of parties involved have been withheld to protect them from the embarrassment of being associated with me.

There is nothing like settling back in your cramped airline seat, satisfied that you are finally heading off to some nice destination for a well earned vacation. Imagine feeling the plane start to taxi down the run way then suddenly being thrown into the back of the seat in front of you as the squeal of the brakes fills your ears. Welcome to my NYC trip.

" Ladies and Gentlemen, we seem to have lost one of our hydraulic pumps. We will need to go back to a gate; however, there is not one open at this time. In the meantime we will taxi off the runway and wait for a gate to open up."

* First things first...for the love of God...yes, get us off the runway!
* Second, Do you happen to have any idea HOW long we might be waiting for a gate?
* Third, I think I just had a mild heart attack realizing that had this pump waited for us to become airborne before failing, we could have ended up like the United flight in Sioux City, IA.

Undaunted, I called my friend who was already in route to JFK and left her a message indicating I would be delayed in arriving, and I would call again with an update once I knew more.

NOTE: Those who know me well, know that I am severely prone to motion sickness. I can't even read and be in a moving car at the same time. My solution? Dramamine! Since this flight to JFK was supposed to be around 3 hours, I thought it best to take a double dose so I would sleep through the entire flight. I had followed the directions on the package to the letter and popped my pills 30 minutes before we boarded the plane.........now flashback to the present and you can imagine after almost an hour on the tarmac waiting for a gate, I am having to struggle to stay awake and remain lucid so I know what the hell is going on.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We have found an unoccupied gate, and will be heading there for the mechanics to take a look at this pump. If it needs to be replaced, we will put you all on another plane that has been made available. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Okay...so it's not going to be that bad. I call my friend and leave a message with an update, but I have a hard time forming the words with my mouth. I feel like I am drunk, but without the happy part. At no time did it occur that I should probably be seeking alternate arrangements - they said they had a plane for us, the airlines always follow through and do what they say they will, right?

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We will not be able to continue on this plane. We also apologize for the earlier miscommunication as there is not another plane available to continue this flight to JFK. As a result, we are cancelling the flight. Please make your way to any available ticket counter to seek alternate flight arrangements."

WTF???

Okay...maybe not.

I am staggering down the jetway with my crap, trying to dial Customer Service with my new iPhone. I get placed on hold and step in line at one of the counters. As I get closer to the agent, customer service comes on the line and proceeds to tell me there are no other direct flights to JFK that day, and that she just booked the last seat on the last plane to LaGuardia.

She did; however, have a seat on a flight into Newark that should arrive right after midnight. Newark is bad enough - period...at midnight it's almost as bad as the pump going out at 35,000 feet. "What other options do I have?" I ask. She begins to ramble about possibly flying to Atlanta and catching a connection there, or perhaps I can fly into Chicago and go standby there. "Forget it. Just give me my money back." I say.....she begins to apologize and I find myself in front of the desk agent. As I hang up the phone I ask him to confirm what she told me. He clickity clicks on the keyboard, looks at the screen, and then looks at me with a horrified expression on his face. I look back at him, perplexed....."Ma'am...your nose is bleeding. Are you okay?" ARRRRGH! Now I look like a drunk extra from a horror movie. Or a pretty close second to Bill Paxton in Near Dark.

I attempt to call my friend's voice mail again, and inadvertently call my old boss's cell phone (last names are very close together). I vaguely remember the conversation, but not really. I do remember him saying.."Are you drunk? You called me by mistake, didn't you!" Now my former boss thinks I drunk dialed him. On a Thursday morning. SIGH

I try again, carefully selecting my friend's number from my contact list, ignoring the worried glances from other travelers walking past me. I leave a message, but have no idea what I said. I think I repeated myself at least three times.

Now I make the trek through the terminal back down to the courtesy van area...periodically dropping my water, magazine, purse and jacket (not necessarily in that order) on the way. I stop by the ladies room to grab some paper towels as I am leaving little red droplets like a trail of breadcrumbs behind me.

I flag down the Park N Fly van zooming by and low and behold, it's the same driver who dropped me off earlier that day. With eyes the size of saucers, he asks if I am okay. "My flight was cancelled. Take me to my car!" I bark. He gets my bag and then does not say another word on the drive back to the shuttle lot.

After a ten minute battle with my trunk, I manage to fling it open and throw my bag in and then the rest is a blur.

I woke up that night at 7, laying half on/half off my bed. My purse was still on my shoulder and I was still wearing my glasses. Punkin was snuggled up next to me, and unless she figured out a way to teleport herself from the floor to the bed, I must have grabbed her and flung her up before I passed out.

I shakily got to my feet and glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. My hair looked like it had encountered a wind tunnel and was standing at attention. Similar to this:

My chin, cheek and neck were coated with a nice crusting of dried blood

Lest you think I managed to have an adventure like this for free, it cost me 10.00 for the time my car was at the shuttle lot.

Sometimes I can't believe the things that happen in my life.

Woot Woot!!

2009-06-22T21:17:00.002-05:00

Makes Dancing with Stars look like romper room....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9WsMasBk_E

New Yawk, New Yawk!

2009-06-22T21:13:00.003-05:00

3 more days until I fly off into the blue yonder and come skidding into JFK for a NYC summer weekend drive by. I have not been to the Big Apple since April of 2001 and am looking forward to some fun in the big city. I will have my iPhone and my new Cannon at the ready, and will hopefully be able to meet up with a former co-worker now living in Joisey. Expect uber amounts of documentation.

Betcha Didn't Notice.....

2009-06-20T13:48:00.002-05:00

I found a way to import my witty reparte from my previous neglected blog into my new and will nurture and care for it blog. And yes, the nurturing and caring includes fixing the broken links on the older posts. Girl Scouts Honor!

Decisions, Decisions....

2009-06-20T10:29:00.004-05:00

Someone made a comment to me the other day using that saying "Home is where the heart is". Although I have heard that phrase hundreds of times in the past, this time it really resonated with me.

My dilemna: I love, love, LOVE living in the great state of Texas. Out of all the places I have lived, Texas seems to fit me like a cozy, flannel shirt that is worn fuzzy in just the right places. The word that comes to mind is HOME. Unfortunately for me; however, everyone in my immediate family is located in Arizona.

As I have gotten older (and apparently wiser) I really miss not being able to just drive over to my mom's for dinner or a casual visit whenever the urge strikes. Yes, I know I can jump on a plane and be there in less than 3 hours, but it's not the same. My little step-brother and sister are now both in high school and soon will be out exploring the world as I did before them...but I have missed so many opportunities to experience their childhood with them always living in a different state. My dad is getting up there in years and while we have not always had the best relationship, I can not imagine a world without him (or my mom, my step-mom or step-dad) in it. It's not that I don't like the state where I was born, it's just that my love affair with Texas is more passionate.

The crossroads are fast approaching...I can almost physically feel it coming, just like you feel an approaching thunderstorm. In my heart I know what I have to do, and you would think it would be an easy decision given that family is involved, but it's not. Perhaps it's because I was born an only child and have never required constant social interactions in order to be content. Or perhaps it's because as a single woman with no children, I have not yet really learned the meaning of the word "sacrifice". I feel sorrow for the experiences I don't think I will get to have, and then immediately feel guilty afterwards...as if the sorrow somehow negates the love I have for my family.

The next 12 months should be interesting....

Almost Famous

2009-06-16T17:44:00.005-05:00

So I made the weekly Yelp Newsletter in the Big D. It's like being published, but not really. Check it out......

Here's an even better look. Guess which one is mine?????

HOA = HELL

2009-06-15T07:01:00.003-05:00

I received an email from the President of my Homeowner's Association Friday morning. Apparently she was walking down the sidewalk and slipped in some mud that had run off from my yard. Keep in mind - on Thursday we had a HUGE storm and tress/fences were uprooted and down all over the place. See her message below:

Stephanie, I was walking the community today and almost slipped on the dirt/mud that has washed onto the sidewalk from your yard during the recent rains. For the safety of our walkers and to protect your liability, we would appreciate you removing the dirt and mud as soon as possible.

If you need the name of a couple of good and reasonable landscape companies to get quotes on fixing the problem and preventing it from happening in the future, we can certainly provide references for you.

Thanks so much for your immediate attention to this issue for the safety of our community.

Warmest regards, D

Denise S. XXXXX

Manager, Sinequanon Group
President, Rockcreek Place Homeowners Association
Secretary, Plano Symphony Orchestra Guild

Now I go out running in the neighborhood at least twice a week. If I see something on the sidewalk that might present a hazard (water from the sprinklers, gravel, or any other kind of debris, I AVOID THAT SECTION OF SIDEWALK. Since there is little to no traffic on the street, it is less dangerous to step out onto the road and run past the aforementioned danger zone than to continue running into something that I KNOW might cause me to slip or fall. I have to wonder about this HOA President:

1) Why is she out walking around critiquing people's yards/connecting sidewalks right after a major storm? Does she think that none of us noticed the damage/debris on our property?
2) Why is it important that we know that she is not only the HOA President, but also the Manager of the Sinequanon Group (WTF is that?) AND the Secretary for the Plano Symphony Orchestra Guild? This just seems like overkill on a personal email account. I think I should add a signature line on my MSN email that says I am the President of the Addicted to Deadwood - Plano Chapter group, as well as the Secretary for the Hal Sparks fan club. I mean, it IS important that people know these things, right?

and finally......
3) Why the hell did she walk through the mud?? Maybe she was deep in thought, organizing symphony activities and all of a sudden she realized "Whoops, I am walking through some mud". And instead of scolding herself for being lame enough to walk in the mud, she decided to take her anger over her ruined Keds out on me.

I hate the suburbs.

But It's a Dry Heat....in Death Valley

2009-06-14T08:50:00.013-05:00

It is apparent that the mild Texas spring time has officially fled town. We are now left with high temperatures, high humidity and ZERO breezidity factor (I like to make up my own words some time....deal). Here is an example of our dilemma:

At 530 PM, CST, the outside temperature was 100 degrees.

Fast forward to 1030 PM CST the same day and look what we have:

4 degrees cooler. 4. WHOLE. DEGREES.

Apparently we here in the Big D must have done something to have pissed off Mother Nature because just two days ago, we had torrential rain storms with lightening and 80+ mph winds. I lost significant branchage on my tree in the front yard, and lost a scraggly tree in the backyard. Now the mosquitoes are out in full force (one tried to carry Punkin off yesterday morning) and I am sweating as soon as I get out of the shower.

Bitch, moan, complain. K - I feel better now.

PS: I took these pics WHILE driving with the new iPhone. I only swerved into the lane next to me once!

PSS: I wonder if an invasion of locusts could be next.

The iPhone Has Landed

2009-06-13T23:57:00.007-05:00

Finally.....I have retired the BlackBerry for a device that does not do random butt dials when placed in a back pocket. I took a couple of pictures of Punkin with the phone..as you can tell from her expression, she was thrilled to be the focus of my test shots.

Of course it only took me about 4 hours to get it all set up, what with the calls to ATT customer service and then a drive to the local ATT store to replace a loser SIM chip. Now that I have a phone WITH A CAMERA (which loser has two thumbs and got a BB without a camera? Me), I expect there shall be frequent documentation of whatever I feel like documenting. Consider yourselves warned. =D

Welcome to the Blog World....again

2009-06-13T08:06:00.001-05:00

Okay...so this is my second attempt to start a blog AND KEEP UP WITH IT. FOr the love of all that is holy, I am online enough, you would think I could pay attention to my OWN blog. I recently have received a large dose of self confidence, so I am going to give this another try with the expectation that my blog eventually takes over the world (MWA HA HA). That is a joke people.......hellooooooo?

A Few Good Men

2008-09-07T09:40:00.003-05:00

As a single woman, I have had my fair share of good and bad dating experiences through the years. Unfortunately, for some reason, the past 12 months have been filled with an overabundance of the latter and it has become a source of frustration with me.....the apparent lack of available, quality men remotely close to my age group, from which to choose a potential mate, partner, etc. It's not that I am not putting myself out there to meet people, it just appears that I have some sort of homing signal built in that attracts individuals that do NOT meet the criteria I have established for myself. The majority of bad dates have fallen into the following categories:

NOTE: All definitions supplied by Urban Dictionary or were made up by me.

The Man Child
A man child is a male who is over the age of 25, who still lives as though he is a juvenile. Many man-children are not gainfully employed, and survive off of the financial support of their enabling parents. Heavy video-game addiction to fantasy games such as World of Warcraft are key to the man-child.

The Lounge Lizard
A ladies-man that frequents night spots where drinks are served. May be part of the live music set, but usually the lizard is at the bar chatting up rich women. Most often seen in a suit that was a fashion statement in the 80s.

The Emotionally Vacuous Man
A man who is emotionally empty or lacks any real concept of what an emotion actually is. To be so self-absorbed that the needs of other people or dependants are never considered before he makes a decision or takes action.

The "Guys Just Want to Have Fun" Man AKA The Player
A male who is skilled at manipulating ("playing") others, and especially at seducing women by pretending to care about them, when in reality they are only interested in sex.

The Young, Dumb and Full of Cum Guy AKA The 30K Millionaire
A 30k millionaire is a guy, who makes around 30k a year, usually from working at a window tinting shop, loan office, or an occupation that does not by any means require a college degree. With his pitiful a income, he spends it all on bottles of champagne at clubs, a boat,a nice car, and sometimes a 3-day trip to Vegas, only to be left with nothing in his account by overdraft fees and possibly a pending loan. NOTE: The 30K Millionaire man can also be interchanged with the Lounge Lizard and Player depending on age range.

The "If Only I Were Still Single" Guy
Probably one of the most dangerous guys out there in the dating world. He seems normal, nice, funny and says all of the right things. You think you've potentially met "the one". Unfortunately, this man is all about the thrill of the chase and when he knows he's made a connection, he whips out some story about being unhappy at home and if he were still single, you would be the love of his life. Run, do not walk, to the nearest exit.

Sign Language

2008-08-30T18:53:00.000-05:00

Princess Diana

Kurt Cobain

The Man in Black

Benecio Del Toro

Heidi Klum

Bruce Willis

Justin Timberlake

Avril LaVigne

Jerry Lee Lewis

Angelina Jolie AKA Lara Croft

The best middle finger pic EVER!!!

'Nuff Said

2008-08-30T18:45:00.001-05:00

Airline Follies: Middle Seatmates

2008-08-21T07:16:00.001-05:00

The Deadly Sins of Middle Seatmates
Ever Get Trapped Next to That Traveler Who Thinks Your Shoulder Is a Pillow?
COLUMN By RICK SEANEY FareCompare.com CEO

There are worse things than being stuck in the middle seat on an airplane.
How about being stuck next to a meddlesome middle seater? You know, the guy who leans into your newspaper as you try to peruse the latest on McCain and Obama, the guy who then has to tell you why your candidate is no good.

You've been there. But did you know? It could be worse.
Yes, your middle seatmate could be guilty of one or more of the "11 Deadly Sins." Allow me to present my list of sins -- and sinners.

1. Proud Papa. This is the man (or woman) who holds junior on his lap -- well, during takeoff and landing, anyway. Otherwise, he is content to let his brat "wander," which means the tot uses your knees as a delightful new gym toy, or constantly tries to get your attention with little jabs or gentle kicks. Junior is invariably in diapers. Sometimes they aren't changed quickly enough. Unfortunately sometimes they are changed -- right next to you. Bonus Points: Proud Papa deposits used diaper in your seat pocket.

2. Life of the Party. It doesn't matter if your flight takes off at 6 a.m., this middle seater is on vacation, and it starts right now. He's slamming down Jack Daniels faster that you can down your $2 Coke. He slurs, he spills, he's outta control. And he's just getting started. Bonus Points: Life of the Party starts getting a little green, he's starting not to feel so well, he's...... oops!

3. Jack in the Box. This middle seater has a lot of important things to do during the plane ride, including making out a grocery list, playing Solitaire on his laptop, updating his Christmas card list and everything he needs to work with is -- you guessed it -- in the overhead bin. So, he gets up -- to grab that pencil. Wait, he forgot his pad of paper -- up again. Wait, he needs the laptop -- up again. Wait -- well, you get the picture. Bonus Points: Every time Jack opens the bin, something falls on your head.

4. Fool for Fifi. If you're lucky, you'll never know your seatmate is traveling with a dog in a carrier. But of course, you won't be lucky. Fifi will bark, howl and make interesting gastrointestinal noises for the entire length of the flight. Then Fool will take Fifi out of her carrier, so you two can "make friends." Bonus Points: You will be assaulted by unassailable olfactory evidence that Fifi hasn't been let out for a walk in a long, long time.

5. The Bean Burrito. Your frugal seatmate brings his meal on board, and it is invariably a very large bean burrito. Within minutes of consumption, fumes begin escaping -- and your seat becomes a kind of death trap. Bonus Points: Burrito's beans are heavily laced with garlic and onions.

6. Barefoot Boy. This is the passenger that dislikes wearing socks with his shoes. He also dislikes wearing shoes and will slip them off just as soon as he's seated. You will then discover that he doesn't like bathing all that much, either. Bonus Points: In lieu of regular hygiene, Barefoot douses himself head to toe in that after-shave you used to give your Dad for Christmas (the one that always wound up in the trash).

7. The Hacker. No, he has no interest in messing up your computer; he's too busy coughing and hacking and sneezing all over you. There is no escaping The Hacker. Bonus Points: Hacker also has a mysterious rash all over his body, but tells you, "I'm pretty sure it's not real contagious."

8. Typing/Texting Twit. You sit down, and boom! The elbows start flying, and you start hurting. Whether the moron next to you is typing or texting, it comes down to the same thing: bruises. The fun continues when you try to explain the discolorations to the spouse. Bonus Points: Twit finally puts away the phone and laptop -- only to pull out the PlayStation, to begin a zestful round of "NHL Hockey."

9. Snuggle Bunny. Snuggle's sin is fatigue. Fatigue and the inability to distinguish between your shoulder and a pillow. Snuggle will snore away the entire flight, in comfort -- on you. Bonus Points: Snuggle Bunny has a drooling problem.

10. Lavatory Lizard. Lizard is kin to Jack in the Box; he too hops up again and again, to head to the restroom. And without fail, Lizard urges you not to get up -- and then steps on your feet. Bonus Points: Whenever the flight attendant comes by, Lizard is the first to say, "Another water, please!"

11. Yellular. For some reason, this middle seater believes his cell phone is actually a megaphone; he may be sitting in row 29, but believe me, the pilot can hear him loud and clear. Yellular gets on the phone the minute he sits down and doesn't get off till wheels up -- regaling you, and everyone else with conversations like, "How is the cat doing? Still got them hairballs?" Bonus Points: You're stuck on the tarmac for three hours while Yellular is yakking away about his latest romantic adventures -- in excruciating detail.

And now for a search engine you can REALLY use!!

2008-08-20T10:43:00.001-05:00

From the pages of lifehacker:

Webapp Diaroogle is a collaboratively edited database of publicly available toilets in New York City, with plans to expand to other major cities. Search Diaroogle for a public restroom based on zip code or intersection and add toilets they come across with reviews and pictures. If you're not in NYC and need to find a restroom, try previously reviewed toilet database The Bathroom Diaries.

Halloween Candy - Part 1

2006-10-29T11:23:00.001-06:00

In honor of Halloween, I thought it would be fitting to share with you all my thoughts on the candy that makes (or breaks) a good Halloween sugar rush. Let's start with the best first:

Milk Duds

This candy is "da BOMB"!! Actually, getting any "Movie" candy is worth it on Halloween given the price you pay in the theater. Not only did this stuff taste good, but it provided at least a hour of guaranteed toungue exercises as you tried to remove all of the gooey stuff from your teeth. A word of warning: this stuff should not be given to aunts or grandmas with false teeth!!!

Mallowcreme Pumpkins

Ahhh....this candy really brings back the memories of childhood. Along with Candy Corn (see my comments on those below), one handful of these little orange and green gems is guaranteed to provide a sugar rush that could induce a diabetic coma. Best eaten in moderation (for the sake of your teeth)!!

Candy Corn

Similar to the Mallowcreme pumpkins, Candy Corn is considered a Halloween staple. You could get the ones with the white tips or the brown tips. I never triend the brown tips, so I am not sure what the difference in taste would be. These little guys also serve double duty as you can use them to create makeshift vampire teeth in a pinch!

Charms Blowpops

Best known for the cute little commercial where the owl answers the age old question "How many licks does it take...", blow pops did double duty as a hard candy and gum. Since patience is not something I am known for, I must say that I can not remember one time where I did not break down

and crunch my way to the gum center. Unfortunately, the gum is only good for about 5 or 6 chews before it loses all flavor.

Peanut Butter Kisses

Wrapped in orange and black wax paper, peanut butter kisses were the poor man's equivalent to the tootsie rool. Packaged in the big "economy" bags, these no-name candies were purchased in bulk by my mom to give out to the trick or treaters every year. I will admit that many (ok, most of them) actually ended up in my candy bag. Shhhhh....that's our little secret.

Reeses Peanut Butter Cups

Seriously...is there really any better candy on the planet we call Earth that can surpass the sheer joy that eating a Reeses Peanut Butter cup brings? I think not!!! Recently Hershey's, the maker of Reeses, introduced a few new variations of the cup: Fudge, Chocolate Lovers and Peanut Butter Lovers. They even came out with a white chocolate version, and then colored the chocolate orange in honor of Halloween. A word to the folks at Hersheys...."If it aint' broke, don't fix it".

Hostess Ding Dongs

Yes, one did occasionally get snack cakes in their treat bag (or pumpkin shaped plastic bucket as was the case with me). If you managed to snag one of these, JACKPOT!!! Although now it would more than likey head straight to the garbage pail since some psycho would probably insert a razor blade, needles, etc. in one. Sigh.....

Pixie Stix

Now we are talking!! You could actually make a poor man's version of Kool Aid with these things. Pixie Stix were pure sugar and induced the same high as a shot of heroin (at least that is what I have heard).Definitely a no-no for kids after 5 PM.

Mike and Ikes

Mike and Ikes were the tasty version of Good and Plenty. Fruit flavored gummi chews that were similar to gummi bears with a hard coating.