Born And Bread

On the scale this morning I was almost exactly on 180. And that was before I went to the gym. By the way, at the gym there was only one lurker on the machines this morning, and I think my evil looks and grumbling caused him to run away, since he only used one machine then split.

My goal has become 175. That was where I was my senior year in high school. That was pretty much the last time I weighed 175. Towords that goal I'm going to sacrifice my morning cranberry muffin. Not only that, I'm going to forgo all bread and bread products for the next week and see if that helps.

Goodbye PB&J's. So long Subway sandwiches. Tomato sandwiches have just become tomato slices. Hellooooo Salads. I'm still a firm believer that salad isn't food... It's what food eats, but now you can get salads with grilled chicken and sliced beef, so...

If it doesn't help, I'll go right back to it. One week. We'll see.

UPDATE:

Last night after I got home from my walk I weighed in at 179.

So Tired

Well, I got up early yesterday and beat the sun to the park for my morning walk. I was surprised how many people were on the hike and bike trail that early on a Sunday, but I had on my headphones and just shut them all out. Seven and a half miles around stopping every two or so to do 10 pushups.

I hit the house for a shower and then down that dusty trail. Thirty miles out of Austin I had a blowout on the Jeep. Rear driver side tire went kablooie. No idea why. By the time I got stopped and pulled into a safe area, it was shredded. It was only about 85 degrees by then, but luckily we finally had some clouds and the humidity had spiked.

My spare tire is an old one with 70,000 miles on it. Not wanting to get stuck out in the middle of nowhere with three wheels I headed back into town.

I went out for some reflection, but the only thing that got reflected was my dirty, sweaty, angry countenance in the rear view mirror. Everywhere I tried to go was thronged with people... Loud annoying people in cars with the windows down playing rap music.

OK, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it sure seemed that way to me.
On top of everything, a new tire for that monster is around $250. Two hundred fifty on top of a budget already stretched too tight as it is.

Yeah, great stress reliever this whole thing turned out to be. I should have more great ideas like this...

UPDATE:

More good news! Called the tire shop... Two of my tires have full replacement warranties, two don't. Don't know which one this is yet. Anybody want to lay any bets? 50/50 odds...

Not to mention the closest shop with the right tire is Grand Prarrie, TX... It'll be here in two days.

UPDATE 2:

I'd have lost my own bet. It was under waranty. There was a nail that caused a slow leak, as the sidewall bowed out the heat, stress and speed ripped it apart.

$24.27 total. I just have to wait 2 days for it to arrive. So, now I'm going to endose Discount Tire... The one in Georgetown, TX anyway. Thanks tire dudes.

Hide And Seek

First off, I want to thank everyone for their well wishes and prayers. My life is getting better... Personal and Professional.
I'm getting better is more accurate. I still have a ways to go, but I'm working hard on my body so my mind is being dragged along, like it or not.

Because I'm unhappy a lot of the time, I'm a little more cynical than my usual charming self... My sledgehammer personality applied more frequently.
I want to appologise to anyone I've offended or been overtly rude to, here or in person. Accept it, because I won't say I'm sorry again... Once is hard enough for me.
That being said, tomorrow I'm going to take a page from my birthday plan book.
Those who know me, know that on my birthday I dissapear in the morning hours. I spend time in solitude and reflection. Tomorrow morning, I will rise with (or before) the sun. I will walk my 7.5 mile loop, get in my Jeep and drive to an undisclosed location, hopefully devoid of human contact. I will lie in the sun, shut out the world and search for some inner peace.
I have made some huge changes in my life recently. I have had some huge changes made for me recently. I very nearly quit blogging, and now I write more than ever before. I very nearly quit living my life as such, and now it's time to do something about that.

I'll be back Monday.

Why I Refuse To Get Help

Pair Of Slacks

I feel like such a slacker today. I skipped my 4 mile walk yesterday so I could go to the movies... Alone.

It was a good time, I guess. Great old movie in a great old theater. I sat in the balcony and ate popcorn while Anthony Perkins stammered and stuttered and stabbed Janet Leigh.

Afterward I went and shot pool by myself at Buffalo Billards on 6th. My game reeks. I used to be pretty good, but if you don't use it you lose it. Of course, shooting against yourself makes it hard to judge.

I hit the gym this morning, but there seemed to be more people on the machines than normal, and they were taking their precious time, so I only got in an abbreviated workout.

I have a power workout that I do. Ten minutes of cardio, two sets of reps per machine, rest between reps. Well, instead of just standing and posing in front of the mirrors like everyone else seems to do, I work a different body part. So, I go legs, upper body, legs, upper body. Three leg machines, three upper body machines. Then I do abs, arms, abs, arms, abs. Three ab exercises, two arm machines. I'm always moving, working bigger muscle groups to smaller ones. This morning people were doing a rep, sitting on the machine to rest between without even getting up. Some were moving randomly among the machines, two curls here, three presses there, stop to pose... I couldn't even get to some of the machines this morning. If you're not there to work out, why are you paying 40 bucks a month? Is it strictly for the homoeroticism?

Well, between the skipped walk and the short workout I feel lazy and tired. My friend Michael is turning 49 tonight... Happy B-day man... But I'm not going to his party, due to the fact it's at the pub and I've realized I don't have enough self control to moderate my drinking right now. On top of which I may try to go ahead and get in a seven mile loop as penence for slacking off last night.

Reel Lines (29)

Norman Bates: She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?
Marion Crane: Yes. Sometimes just one time can be enough.

Playing tonight at the lovely Paramount Theater on Congress Ave. in beautiful downtown Austin at 7pm. I'm going to skip my 4 mile loop tonight just to see this movie in the theater. It's a double feature with The Birds.

Get Stuffed

I made myself a stuffed pepper for supper last night. I started with a NY strip steak, a big sweet chili pepper (not hot), an acorn squash and some brown rice. Ignore the tomatoes, they just happened to be on the table.

I cored out the pepper. I cut the steak into strips and browned it while the rice was cooking and the squash was steaming.
I cubed the meat, mixed it with the rice and squash.
Stuffed the pepper full to bursting and stuck it in the oven at 250.
Some people cook 'em till they're mushy. Me, I want it tender... No mush.

Cut that bad boy open, and you have a meal fit for a K-Nine.

While preparing the meal, I satisfied the early tummy growling with some fresh roasted peanuts. My sister sends me a 5lb bag of raw peanuts a few times a year. I pour some in a pan, roast them till the skin starts to turn dark, and I have a high protein, low cholestoral, sodium free snack.

Letter Into Your Heart

I played football in high school. I only played my senior year, because my sophmore year I weighed 135lbs. My junior year I may have been 150. My senior year I hit 175 and put on some muscle.

I wasn't very good. I could run and hit, but I wasn't destined for the NFL by any stretch... not even as a water boy. I mostly did it for the prestige and the letterman jacket.
I still have my varsity jacket. Red corduroy with a gold letter "A" for my home town on the left breast, my last name and number (67) on the right breast, "V" for varsity on the left sleeve. Cougar paw and my first name on the right sleeve (this was pre K-Nine days). Eastern state championship metal pinned to the cross bar on the "A". I was proud of that jacket, I wore it for a couple of years after high school.
It still hangs in my closet now... Looks just like the day I last took it off.

My high school has changed colors and mascots a couple of times. Years before me they were the Indians... Black and gold. A couple of years after I graduated they became the Hertford County Bears, blue and gold.

I was a red and gold Cougar.

One girl a few years younger than I wore her dad's Indian varsity jacket to school one fall and winter. It seemed (to me anyway) to be very cool back then.

I wrote recently about the fact that I would have made a good dad. I saved that jacket all these years, it was very well taken care of. Only one or two small spots on it, no rips or tears.

I thought that one day, my hip and cool daughter might like to wear it to school. Nobody would know or care that I rode the bench most of the time. It's a vintage championship letterman's jacket. That's cool.

More than twenty years have gone by since I was on that team. Twenty years since that team name ceased to exist.

I have no daughter to wear my jacket to school. I have nobody interested in me enough to want to have a daughter who might want to wear my jacket.

An unfulfilled destiny hangs in my closet. Every few years I pull it out and put it on to see if it still fits, and it does... Then I brush the dust off the shoulders, place it back on the hanger and back in the closet... To wait till the next time I try it on in a year or two.

Dodging The Issue

A couple of random thoughts about my '77 Dodge, aka the Big Blue Beast... While I'm on the subject.

Matchbooks. If you've ever owned a vehicle with an 8-track player, you had matchbooks in your car... So that when the tape began to drag, and it would, you could shove a matchbook under it and it would play normally.

Eyelids. It had eyelids (Headlight covers) that would flip down when you turned on the lights. I left the lights on one morning somewhere and when I came back to the car they were barely burning. I realized I had one chance to start that thing or I was walking to find help. I got in the car, shut off the lights and turned the key. Before it cranked the starter I heard, '"zzzzt, clunk". Because the lights were off, it used its last little bit of power to shut its eyelids, and I walked to get help.

RX7's. I know that seems like a non-sequitor, but this was the mid to late '80's. RX7's were popular and a lot of the guys had them. Growing up like I did in the country we used to race a lot. (you're shocked I'm sure) I had this huge boat nearly twice as long and three times as heavy as these little sports cars. Light pole to light pole I stood no chance... Top end, of a mile or more, well that was another story. I ate their lunch every time. It was a good feeling.

Driven

The first car I ever considered to be my own was a '77 Dodge Royal Monaco. Dubbed the Big Blue Beast, she was over 18 feet of Carolina blue steel with a white vinyl top. A 400/4 barrell under the hood, I flipped the breather cap for just that extra little umph of horse power... And so I could almost feel it when that carb roared.

I drove that car like I had stolen it. We saw triple digits on many an occasion. No good reason I'm not dead and gone.

Stephanie was a couple of years younger than me. Big blonde hair and a body that brought many a young man to his knees. She wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she was a lot sharper than most people gave her credit for.

I wasn't the kind of guy a girl like her should date, but we became pretty close.

I used to take her out for long drives in the country. The Beast had been a luxury car in her day and came with an 8-track, six speaker stereo system... Stock. I had a cassette adaptor so we could listen to other music than the Lynyrd Skynyrd and Foghat 8-tracks I had or K94, the rock station out of Virginia.

One afternoon she wanted to learn how to drive... She wanted to drive my car. I was 17, so she was 15, old enough to have a learner's permit, but she hadn't had driver's ed yet. I'm pretty sure I put up token resistance, but we both knew I stood no chance. All she had to do was lock those deep greens onto my baby blues and I would have ripped the earth off of its foundations for her.

Here's the picture. Cruising along at 55-60 on a two lane back road that cut through the landscape like a black and yellow racing stripe. Fields of dusty peanut plants and olive drab tobacco broken up by the deep, green woods of pine and oak. The sun is shining, the engine roaring, all four windows down. The radio turned up too loud, her hair blowing around her head like golden flames, emerald irises locked on me. The word "please" never escaped her lips... It never had to.

I closed my eyes to break her stare and started to pull over.

She touched my shoulder and shook her head. "No." was all she said.

She adjusted her skirt and slid closer to me. She lifted those perfect hips and wriggled herself onto my thigh and then down between my legs. For one perfect moment she was pressed against me, my arms around her, all four of our hands on the wheel... Ten, two, nine and three.

I took my foot off the gas and hers was there immediately, propelling us and several tons of steel down the highway for the first time in her life. slowly I let go of the wheel and slid myself from behind her to the passenger side.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was the most beautiful thing I had seen up to that point in my life... That vision is still pretty high on the list, the wind whipping her clothes and hair, that look of thrill and pleasure and satisfaction on her face. If I had died right then and there, it might have been worth it.

EPILOGUE:

The next day, some of Pop's friends were standing around the bed of his truck in our front yard, two bottles on the tailgate, one of bourbon one of Sundrop (think Mountain Dew) when I wheeled into the yard.

One of them looked at me and said, "I see you got your car fixed."

My response was a confused "Huh?"

"The steering. I see you got the steering fixed."

"There's nothing wrong with the steering."

"Funny, I passed you yesterday with that cute little thing in your car and it was taking both of you to turn the wheel."

You know, it was worth that too.

Packing It In

Well, the stars weren't aligned. Both the dogs I picked were adopted by other people. I've been careful to pay attention to omens lately, so I'm taking this as a sign that now isn't quite the right time for me.

I'm calling off the search, and will just concentrate on getting my life back on some type of level path.

A dog is a great redeemer, and will love you unconditionally... Maybe right now I need some conditions.

I still need to finish my weight loss and fitness goal. I still need to figure out what to do in my professional life. I have a long way to go emotionally too.

Self control and moderation have never been my strong suit. I need to grow up a little more.

The only dog I need to train right now is the one who looks out of the mirror at me every day. I guess we're going to find out about old dogs and new tricks.

Goodnight George

Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time. -George Carlin

Blood Type

Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy. -William Butler Yeats

I was dwelling on the fact that my friend called me a thug... Yes, that's right, my friend.

I suppose I am, to a certain extent. I can be rather blunt at times... Most times. My personality can, on occasion, make a sledgehammer look like a precision surgical instroment.

I've been going through a rough patch recently... You'd have to be fairly dense not to have noticed it.

Maybe this is my natural state... This is what I am. My life is long stretches of unhappiness, or at the very least drudgery, broken up by brief times of contentment.

Allow me to quote a few of my friends and aquaintances:

"Honey, you are the darkness"

"You are more of a thug"

"You make your own situations, it's dark, but it's comfortable"

"You're never really happy unless you're miserable"

I suppose I have to accept it. I am what I have made myself into. I have this little black cloud of my own design, and I wear it like some dark crown. I'm not down and hurt... I'm reverting to type.

Seen In A Text Message

Them: You remind me of Robert Mitchum.

Me: I don't look anything like Bob Mitchum. I always thought of my self as a Steve McQueen type.

Them: Steve was too smooth. You are more of a thug.

I'll be writing more about this later... Really.

Cold Shoulder

The guy came out and fixed my AC yesterday afternoon. I got home and it was 82 inside. That ain't bad considering it was probably closer to 100 when he turned it on. Only cost me about $150.

I went for my walk, fixed a meal and hit the rack early. I woke up freezing this morning as he had left the thermostat set on 61 or something.

Beats being hot though.

Pet Project, A 100 Word Story

Sparky was a good dog. More than that, he was loyal to his owner. He knew some of the things his master did were frowned upon in human terms, but Sparky didn’t care, he was a dog.
Busted for a leash law violation, the cops wanted him to roll over, but he refused. No matter what, he determined in his doggie heart that he was not going to speak.
Then, Detective Spencer came into the interrogation room with the round, fuzzy, yellow object. Sparky realized he was doomed. He knew that eventually he was going to have to play ball.

Doggerel

I've been thinking about expanding the pack. It's been on my mind for a while. I've been trying to deny the urge, but I spend so much time alone now it's getting hard to ignore.

I'm thinking about getting a dog. I go online from time to time and look at all the shelter dogs. I love dogs. I'm good with dogs. I worry about my lifestyle.

I work a lot. I work 30 miles from home. I have a big house (for one person) and a fenced in yard.

(S)he could stay outside in the daytime, with a plastic swimming pool of course (this is Texas), walk/run with me in the evenings, stay inside at night and we'd have Sunday together. But 9-10 hours a day alone in the backyard? I don't know.

I'm afraid it's just my lonelyness getting to me... But my rottie Rogue was the one who really helped me get over my ex-wife. I don't know what to do. Earlier today I told my Ma that it was hard for me to even ask advice, much less follow it, but help me out here. What do you guys think? If I can't trust you, who can I trust?

UPDATE:

Almost all the feedback I got was positive, the rest merely urged caution making a big decision in my present state of mind. None was negative. So... I've started looking for a dog. I filled out an application at the Town Lake Animal Center and at the Georgetown Dog Rescue. Both places have dogs I'm interested in.

The dog at GDR is a heeler mix puppy (6weeks).

Problems: I just went through that with another heeler mix puppy... The chewing, the peeing, the high energy.

Positives: I just went through all the bad stuff and learned a lot as we went along, this time will be easier because I know somewhat what to expect and how to countermand it. Plus, it's a puppy, I can imprint it the way I want with limited conflict.

The dog at TLAC is a 2 year old cattle dog mix.

Problems: Heartworm positive (so we're talkin' a few hundred off the bat to cure her... If it doesn't kill her). She also has another human trying to adopt her. All involved will most likely be better off if the other person gets her.

Positives: Already house trained. Done with the chewing stage. I hope she gets a good home and makes my choice for me.

UPDATE 2:

Damn... Someone put in an application on the puppy I wanted too.

Hot Stuff

I got home yesterday and my AC is out. Texas is having one of the hottest springs in a long time. (Damn global warming) I walked into a house that was 92 degrees. I went for my walk, opened up all the windows, took a shower and lay down with a big ass fan blowing directly on me. It wasn't too bad to sleep, but this sucks.

Isn't this what happened to Charles Whitman? Oh, wait, that was in August... Nevermind.

Reel Lines (28)

M: This may be a bit difficult for a blunt instroment like you to understand, but arrogance and self-awareness seldom go hand in hand.

The Devil You Know, A 100 Word Story

As I climbed out of bed this morning I was brought instantly alert by the shooting pain in my ankle. An imp had crawled out from under the bed and bitten me. I kicked him off and into the closet.
I made my way to the bathroom to clean up my bloody leg and of course there was a succubus lounging in a bubble bath.
Afterwards I opened the refrigerator and two hordlings started throwing cheese at me.
I don’t even want to tell you what’s in the garage.
Everyone has their demons. Why do mine have to manifest physically?

The Dog Father

I've posted about my father a couple of times. This Father's Day I'll tell you what comes to mind when I think of my Pop.

Winston cigarettes. The red and white pack that was always present in his shirt pocket. No lighter, there was always a matchbook tucked inside the celophane. He quit smoking after Ma found out she had cancer, but I still remember. None of his kids smoke except me, and that's just the occaisional cigar.

The big blue and white Chevy Scottsdale pickup truck. The truck before that was a blue and white Chevy too. The blue vinyl interior that smelled of dirt and rust and sweat and nicotine. The two gun rack in the back window, and the white cross-bed toolbox behind the cab.

Pumpkins. Most years we would plant an acre or so of pumpkins and sell them in the yard before Halloween. He always did most of the work, but let me keep all the money. Watching him in the yard was how I learned to sell, he was a master. The year he passed away I had moved away from home and he still did the pumpkin thing. After he died I loaded all those pumpkins up in the big trailer, hooked up to the old blue truck, hauled them an hour away to Greenville and sold 'em to the local grocery stores there. I haven't grown nor carved a pumpkin since.

That's pretty much it. There are a lot of little memories: Change and keys on the end of the table, yelling out the window at the dogs to keep quiet, a 6oz Coke and M&M's at the country store, but those are the big things that I really associate with him... I guess I always will.

Happy Father's Day Pop. I miss you.

We all do.

Tired

Letters full of loveless lying
said you'd rather leave than stay and try
Lay my head down
when I'm tired
I'm always tired
I'm almost done

I don't mind it, I'm without you
didn't mind to wait until you'd gone
Lay my head down
when I'm tired
I'm always tired
I'm almost done

I don't mind it, not seeing daylight
ain't afraid of darkness when it comes
Lay my head down
when I'm tired
I'm always tired
I'm almost done

I know you ain't responsible only
pushed away the feelings that you had
Why it might be impossible only
staying awake with these feelings that I have
afraid I found the thing that made you sad

Pull up all these lies
say you'd rather leave than stay and try
Lay my head down
when I'm tired
I'm always tired
I'm almost done

I'm always tired
I'm always tired

Tired & Fired by Drag the River

Politiks

I have been asked why I stopped writing any political commentary here. Easy answer: Why bother?

The America that I grew up believing in is not represented in government today. Oh, it still exists... For now... But has no representation.
As far as I can tell, every facet of American government from the school boards and city councils to congress and the president is full of lip serving, two dimensional sound byte artists.

I once called Abraham Lincoln the father of modern American politics... Promising everything to everyone with no intention of delivering anything to anyone. Now, I admit that is harsh, and somewhat overblown when it comes to Father Abraham. Not so when it comes to the political offspring of such policy.

Obama, McCain... Each one is saying what they think wants to be heard by whomever is listening at any given time. Unfortunately most of the people still listening are the ones who think they are owed something, or have an agenda.

McCain blathering on about not drilling in anwar to appease the global warming nutjobs, while saying we need to lower gas prices.

Obama's message is all about change. That man can take more time to say nothing and make people eat it up better than any used car salesman I've ever seen, and I've known some good used car salesmen. "Blah, blah, blah change, blah, blah believe!"

Spin, spin, spin. Much sound and fury signifying nothing.

How can one expect to be a leader of men by bowing to the much changing whim of an uneducated and mostly appathetic populace?

Bah. I wash my hands of the lot of them. Come November we'll see if I still hate McCain less than I love my country. We'll see.

Line 'Em Up

I didn't get very many pick-up lines in comments when I asked for them, so, I guess I have to go to the next step.

Submit your pick-up lines (The cheesier the better) in comments. I'll pick my favorite three. I'll post them and let the readers vote.

Winner gets a prize. I won't say what, because I havn't decided yet, but it'll be something cool.

Caveat: If I get less than three, or only three, nobody gets jack... Really. There have to be at least four or more before I do anything for anybody.

Ten would make me happy. You can enter as many times as you want.

Caveat #2: If I get 4 entries, and they are all from the same person, the deal's still off. 4 lines from 4 different people, min.

Have at it.

Doggie Daddy

Father's day is coming up. I miss my Pop. I wonder how different my life would be were he still alive. Probably not much. A few bumps here and there might've been smoother... but who knows?

I like to think I would have made a good dad. I think that if I had had a child I might've straightened up a little sooner, and I'd have done all right.

I'm good with kids. Children and animals have always been drawn to me for some reason. I sure don't have a lot of wisdom to impart, but I know a thing or two.

I know how to throw a ball. I can make a kite from stuff lying around the house. I can fix most anything. I know how to make a wicked paper airplane. I know how to talk without yelling, but I know how to yell when it's necessary. I know how to teach, and not make it seem like a lesson.

In fact, I've done all those things with other people's kids.

I sometimes regret that my ex and I never had kids. Then I remember how it ended and that goes away pretty quickly.

Both my brothers made good dads. One didn't make a very good husband, but I'm not the one to cast that stone.

Pop was fifty when I was born, so I suppose pushing forty leaves me some time, but there were four more ahead of me so there's a lot of room for doubt.

Not to mention that as a man I need at least one other person of the opposite sex to assist me. None of those up my sleeve.

By myself I don't even have time for a dog , what the Hell would I do with a kid...

I would have made a good dad though. I'm sure of it.

It Wasn't All Acid

It's almost two years since Rob "Acidman" Smith passed away. He was one of my early blogging influences. If things were good for him, he wrote. If things were bad for him... He wrote. His whole blog got started because things were bad for him. Although seperated by years and miles we shared some similar experiences. Going to his site to read always made me a little homesick. Sometimes his site was a balm on my personal wounds. The person (Persons) keeping his site up and reposting his archives are doing a wonderful job. If you've never read his work, go now and do so. You just might find what you need. Sometimes, even if you've gone through something before yourself, It's comforting to know that someone else went through it too.

...I miss being in love.
I miss having someone to talk with at night and to snuggle with in the sheets. I miss having someone who trusts me to be strong when I let her know about my fears ahead of time, because I can speak of those fears to her (only her), and I miss having someone who is proud of me when I overcome those fears and succeed. I miss cooking supper for my family. I miss looking up from the book I'm reading or the article I'm writing just to see HER across the room and feel my heart swell just from the sight of her. -Acidman

Size Matters

You can suck in your gut, but you can't suck in love handles. And what with the fur and the ink, I can't even photoshop my head on someone else's body. I hit the gym again this morning just for some extra ab and chest work. I took this picture before I went, after weighing in at 182.

These jeans are the same size I was wearing in the St. Patrick's day picture here... Maybe even the same jeans.

Down... In A Good Way

My face is sunburned from walking 7 miles in the 99 degree Texas afternoon sun, my legs are rubber from increasing the weight on the machines at the gym, my abs are sore from crunches, but I'm down to 185lbs and while I'm a long way from having a six pack stomach the love handles are almost gone.

I have not missed a single day walking, athough I've changed to 4 miles six days and 7 on Sunday, and am sticking to my 3 day a week gym schedule.

Piggin' Out

I'm a pretty good cook, so long as I don't get too fancy. The only problem with cooking for one is that it cant be done. Every package, every recipe is designed for two or more people. I know if any leftovers get put in my fridge they will probably leave under their own power. Still, I can't resist sometimes. Last night was a pork tenderloin. I started by cooking some brown rice and steaming half an acorn squash.
I rubbed the meat down with olive oil, garlic salt, italian seasoning, basil and parsley
I put the cooked rice, pork and squash in a pan dropped it in the oven on a slow roast.
I don't have a picture of the done roast, because when it was finished, I forgot and dug in.
I also made some home made apple sauce. I chopped up some apples with a teaspoon of brown sugar and let them simmer till they were mushy.
MMMMMMMmmmmmmm... Mushy.

And yes, I only ate half and put the rest in the fridge to go bad. Sigh.
UPDATE:
I threw out the rest of the rice (Re-warmed rice is terrible) re-heated the pork sliced it thin and put it on a tomato sandwich... MMMMmmmm. And no more leftovers.

Throw Me A Line

Audience Participation.

In my younger days I was a bit of a ladies man... Actually, whore dog would be a bit more accurate. In fact, that is partially how I got my nickname of K-Nine, although the whole story has eroded with time.

I used to be the man with the lines. Not cheap throw aways, but good, on the spot, occasion specific lines. Those days are gone, and I don't care.

Last night though, I was watching loud, drunk, inept young men try to "throw a rap" on the girls in the ugly dresses. I couldn't really hear what was being said, but I imagined some of the old chestnuts like:

• That's a nice dress, It'll look great on my floor in the morning.
• Are your feet tired? You've been running through my mind all day.
• Can I buy you a drink... And breakfast?
• You must be a keg, 'cause I'd like to tap that ass.

OK, maybe not the last one, but... What are your favorite (best and worst) pick-up lines. I'd really like to hear from the ladies on this one. I've noticed that my readership is up now that I'm going nuts, so I expect some comments, damn it.

Don't You Own A Mirror

Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months. -Oscar Wilde

I was at The Belmont on 6th last night and I noticed that the most beautiful women were wearing the most hideous clothes. (I had noticed it before, but it seems to have become the vogue)
All these 20-40 year old women were wearing these tops and dresses that gather right below their breasts and then drop down like a circus tent.
OK, so it shows off your shoulders and accentuates your breasts. It also makes you look like you are entering your third trimester.
Why? Why would you do that?
There was one woman there who was extremely stunning. Tall and lithe, dark hair and hazel eyes, long shapely legs extending from her white dress, the dress that was gathered around her waist and made all the girls wearing the other type of dress look like short fat trolls.
Not that I am the paradigm of high fashion in my black t-shirt and jeans, but gals... I mean, really?

Don't Tell Me

On a pawn shop radio I heard

Your favorite song

I could almost hear you whisper in my ear

But I know that you are gone

Don't tell me it's alright

Don't tell me not to cry

You've got to admit

You got a better deal than I

If I could turn the hands of time

I'd turn 'em back till you were mine

But instead you'll haunt my dreams tonight

Don't tell me it's alright

In a dim lit resturant you spoke

With a breaking voice

Between the wine and the after dinner smoke

I realized I had no choice

Don't tell me it's alright

Don't tell me not to cry

You've got to admit

You got a better deal than I

If I could turn the hands of time

I'd turn 'em back till you were mine

But instead you'll haunt my dreams tonight

Don't Tell me it's alright

Don't tell me not to cry

You've got to admit

You got a better deal than I

If I could turn the hands of time

I'd turn 'em back till you were mine

But instead you'll haunt my dreams tonight

Don't tell me it's alright

Don't tell me it's alright

-Slaid Cleaves

Bigger In Texas

Back in my married days, my spouse got me a subscription to Men's Health. I don't think she was dropping hints, but she is my ex-wife now.

Anyway, I remember reading that for every 15lbs you are overweight you lose a half inch in length of your... your... well... manhood.

I remember thinking to myself, "Now, that can't be right."

Well, I hate to say it, but... "It's twue, it's twue!"

Now it may not be exactly a half inch per 15lbs, I havn't broken out a measuring tape since college (and if you're a guy and you say you haven't done that you are a liar and can leave right now) but there is a noticeable difference. (I've dropped 35lbs... So far)

Sadly, I have no one to coroborate. Had I not dropped so much weight so quickly I might not have noticed... And before anyone else can say it, if I had had someone here to coroborate I may not have noticed so quickly.

Hopefully this will be some inspiration to any other guys out there thinking about dropping a couple of pounds this summer like T1G. The rest of the crew over there doing the weight loss thing seem to be women. I don't think this will be very inspiring for them.

Reel Lines (27)

Red: There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.

Wizdom: A 100 Word Confession

He was right, you know. I should have known he would be. “Great and Powerful”… He was that all right, and wise too.
I know why I didn’t listen to him. We’d come so far. We all got our wishes. We got what we thought we wanted. I just wish I’d have thought my wish through a little better.
I remember the warning, “As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”
The Wizard was exactly right.

Dead Dog Walkin' Route

Some people ask me, "Are you really walking that far?"

Yep. 4 miles 5 days a week and it's actually 7.5 miles the other two days.

I start at Longhorn Dam on Pleasant Valley Rd and walk to I35 and around the lake for the 4 mile hike. Same start for the 7.5 miler but I keep going till I get to the Pfluger pedestrian bridge and around. It sounds pretty impressive, but it's easy. Step 1: Start Walking. Step 2: Don't stop. Make a loop, that way you can't cheat yourself... Especially if there's a lake in the middle of it.

Here's what it looks like from the air. Red is 4 miles, Blue is 7.5. Arrows point out the starting point and the Holliday Inn where the Blown Eyeds stayed for the Austin meet two years ago.

Jumpin' Gyminy

Finally! Yesterday I decided to go on to the gym. The plan was Gym at 10 when it opened, get a good hour workout, hit the pub a block or so down, eat a salad, and have a cranberry juice go home and do yardwork.
Sign on the door at gym: "closed due to power outage". Damn, damn, damn.
So... I headed for longhorn dam and my seven mile loop around. I finished approximately two hours later, went home ate my last tomato- sandwich style and took a nap.
This morning I got in my first gym workout in a very long time. It's weird. All my muscles feel loose and my limbs seem disconnected. Good... But weird.

Overheard On The Telephone

Nameless Friend: Dude, saw your pictures on your blog... Not bad

Me: Thanks man, it's a work in progress.

Friend: Bah, work in progress my ass... More like a historic structural renovation.