Blog updates

Just an informational note...I removed the links to other blogs and have added a section with links to my two new blogs. One is a more serious blog where I can write about things that are on my mind regarding theology, social and religous issues, politics, and whatever else I feel like writing about. The other is a blog about stuff I like...music, games, gadgets, whatever.

FYI...I removed the links to other blogs because other people were constantly moving and/or removing their blogs and it got to be a pain to keep up with.

I'll still update this blog, of course...so look for more crispy, whole-wheat goodness here in the future.

Still grumpy after all these years

As readers of my blog know, there are lots of things that bug me and I like to write about them. Why? Well, I guess I feel like it's my reason for being. I feel as though I've been gifted with a crappy attitude and a propensity to not give a rat's butt, and by gosh I'll not let those gifts go to waste!

Everything nowadays can be ordered as a burrito or a wrap...why is that? I'm sure it's the low carb people, who have somehow convinced themselves that it's ok to eat 3 pounds of greasy, fatty meat so long as it's wrapped in a wheat pita. (incidentally, this goes back to my theory that we try to make ourselves feel better about eating bad foods by covering them up in some form or fashion with healthy foods...fruit in our ice cream and cheese on our broccoli) Now when you order a sandwich you have to tell them whether you want the actual sandwich or the wrap. If you're eating at a fast food restaurant, how concerned about your health can you really be? Suck it up and eat the bread you bed-wetting pansies.

Apparently, there are a few groups of people (car salesmen, NASCAR drivers, nerds, etc.) who haven't gotten the word that giving the "thumbs up" isn't cool anymore. Personally, I question whether it was ever cool...but I know the Henry Winkler (aka "The Fonz") fans will disagree and ultimately that's not a group I care to debate with (although I'll say it right here and right now to all you folks who thought he was so cool and so tough...HE SUCKED...I could beat the LIVING CRAP out of "The Fonz" and would do so given the chance. All you "Fonzy" freaks need to step off because I'll choke-slam "The Fonz" right in front of you and shatter your dreams just like that) and that's really not the point I'm trying to make here. The point is, it's old and cheesy and you need to quit doing it ASAP or else you run the risk of being mocked both publicly and privately by anyone with common sense.

Have you ever been to a really fancy restaurant and, upon entering the bathroom, found a guy sitting in there handing out mints? This is just wrong on so many fronts...for one thing, who wants a job where you sit around all evening dressed in a tuxedo enjoying the sights, sounds and yes...the smells of a restroom? Why pay a guy to do something that a tin can could do? All he does is hold mints, make idle conversation and take away any hope of privacy you might have had. I realize that this is uncomfortable to talk about, but to be honest the last thing I want is some guy sitting there listening to me in the event I have to knock one out, and I sure don't want to have to talk to someone who's just witnessed me do it. It's like he's talking to you and you're talking to him (with a cheap mint in your mouth that's at least partially to blame for the burning sensation in your eyes), but there's this weirdness between you because he knows what you did, and you know he knows what you did...it's just awkward and pointless. Get that freaking guy out of there!

If you read the comics section of the newspaper, you'll notice a few strips in there that are like...soap opera comics or something...stuff like "Mary Worth". What? So the idea here is to tell a meaningful story in daily segments that contain about 2 lines of dialogue...meaning that over the course of a year, you end up with about 5 minutes worth of actual story. No wonder it's been running so long...they've had the strip for 25 years and haven't even fleshed out the main characters yet. There's that other one called "The Phantom" that's supposed to be an action adventure. If I forsook everything and spent my entire life searching, do you think I could ever find a regular reader of comics like these? Take that crap out of the paper and run a few more Dilbert comics...and while you're at it, can that "Dennis the Menace" garbage too. It's not funny anymore...we get it already ok? The kids a brat who's always in trouble and everyone hates and loves him at the same time. Perhaps a butt-whipping from his poorly-drawn father figure would end the strip once and for all...or maybe that dog "Marmaduke" from the junky comic strip next to Dennis could eat him, resulting in Dennis' death while at the same time forcing Marmaduke's owners to put him down, which would end that crappy comic as well...hmm, this is actually a good idea here. That's one story line I'd actually enjoy reading.

"Uh yeah, I'm doing fine, great, whatever...Umm...could you like, go outside for a minute? I have to...umm...do something...and I want to get back before my "Triple Bacon Heartstopper Wrap" gets cold...you can just leave the mint on the counter..." (enters stall and picks up news paper)..."Ah ha! I knew he was the father of your baby Mary! You tramp!"

Liar Liar Pants on Fire!

I find it interesting to note the times, places and reasons that people choose to lie.

For example, you ladies will spend about 75 hours "fixing" your hair so that it's as perfect as you can possibly get it.  It'll have lots of swirls and curls and whoppity-do's in it and you'll smile at yourself in the mirror with joy at what you've accomplished.  Then you'll go out and someone will say to you (some other girl is what I mean...most guys won't comment on it unless we're after something) "Your hair looks so good today!  Did you do something different with it?  Did you get a haircut? Did you <blah blah blah>?"  You'll usually respond with, "No, nothing different...I just threw it in a bun real quick and walked out the door.  Nothing special."  I don't understand this...why not say "Thank you for noticing...it took me over an hour to do this.  I made the rest of my family suffer and wait while I got my "do" looking just so...I'm glad you like it!"  Why lie about the effort it took to get your hair looking so good?  Why don't you want people to know about all your hard work?  Why are you hiding the truth here ladies? Hmm?

You walk through the door at church in an awful mood...you're angry, you're depressed and you want to crawl under a rock and die.  But what do you say when someone walks up and asks you how you're doing?  "Pretty good...how about you?"  Huh?  You're miserable and you know it, and the folks at church are supposed to be there for you during times like this...so why lie?  Even at funerals, people will be like "I'm good, how are you?"  This sort of thing perpetuates...you don't want to be the only person at church who says "You know what...life sucks and I'm two seconds away from going postal up in this joint", so you do like everyone else and put on a stinkin' happy face.  Everyone acts like things are peachy, and no one gets any of the help or support they actually need.

Why is it that guys can't admit that we don't know what we're doing when it comes to fixing stuff?  Some electrician will be sitting there explaining Ohm's law or some other technical crap to us, and we'll sit there and nod our heads like we know what he's talking about.  It's like we try really hard to not let anyone know that we don't know everything about everything, and the next thing you know we're standing there with some hot wires in our hands trying to do something we told the mechanic we were "pretty sure we could do ourselves".  This is one of the primary reasons hospitals have burn units.

I think most people like to lie...they actually enjoy doing it and make a game out of tricking other people into believing the most ridiculous stuff they can possibly think of.  Thus we have urban legends about people waking up in tubs full of ice minus their kidneys and back seats full of axe-wielding maniacs who wait too late to strike and allow their victims to stop at the 7-Eleven first where astute clerks clue them in to their impending doom.  Unfortunately, we make it too easy most of the time by being gullible, moronic idiots looking for anything to spice up our boring lives.  Two words...chain letter.  Need I say more?

Everyone who reads this blog must get at least 10 other people to read it.  Those who do will find a crisp $10 bill in their coat pocket.  Those who do not will wake up with a bad case of the "lower intestinal dance party" and find themselves suddenly short on toilet paper.

The Day After Christmas

Is it just me, or does the day after Christmas suck really bad? Let's see what we've got here:

...rapid loss of the excitement of the season - check

...having to go back to work - check

...cleaning up the house after family comes over and dealing with HUGE piles of dishes and wrapping paper - check

...realizing just how many reams of paper your credit card statement will be composed on this year - check

Yeah, I think it's official...today sucks. If you're a kid it's great because you don't have school or any other notable responsibility to deal with and you just get to play with all your new toys. If you're an adult, you trudge to work in clothes that no longer fit you (thanks to about 2,347 sausage balls washed down with homemade candy) to work yourself out of debt and get back to your "normal life". Whoopity-freaking-doo.

My nephew gave me a "Transformer" this year for Christmas and let me tell you, it's COOL. Whoever came up with the idea for Transformers was an absolute genius. It's cars and trucks and heavy machinery that turns into battling robots! The one I got is called "Mudflap" and he's a huge crane, which is cool because construction equipment is awesome - it can destroy stuff real easy - and then it "transforms" (with some degree of difficulty, I might add...my wife has several pictures of me struggling to figure out how to work this thing) into a robot with missiles and stuff! YEAH! Construction equipment + robots with missiles = me bringing untold amounts of pain and suffering to the residents of my daughter's "Little Mermaid Pop-Up Castle". Good times!

You know why I hate losers that steal toys? You know why I want to make them wear meat underwear and streak through the lion exhibit at the zoo? Because every time I give my kids a gift I have to bring along a commando knife and several packs of C-4 just to get the gifts out of the blasted package. In an attempt to keep deadbeats from stealing stuff, they've entwined every little stinking piece of each toy with this silver bailing wire and screws and rubber bands and so much other stuff that it takes 45 minutes just to get the stinkin' thing out. Then, if you have a cat, you have to watch out because they'll try to eat the silver bailing wire stuff...this results in having to drop mega-coin to have the vet carefully remove it from their colon. Maybe as punishment, they ought to make anyone who gets caught stealing toys own a cat - that would teach them.

"Sarge, Ariel's getting away!" "Don't worry son - she's not going anywhere. Mudflap! Activate your ultra-mega missile launcher! Your target is the lanky looking redhead with the fish legs. 'HEY ARIEL...I GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU AND YOUR STUPID CRAB FRIEND...ALWAYS GOT A SMILE ON YOUR FACE DON'T YA...THINGS ALWAYS WORK OUT FOR THE LITTLE PRINCESS DON'T THEY...WELL NOT THIS TIME - SING ABOUT THIS!' (BOOM!) Yeah boys...tonight, it's fish sticks for dinner. Transform everyone...we're not done yet. We've got to hit Strawberry Shortcake's house before she has time to ready her defenses. MOVE OUT!"

Thanks for the fruitcake!

I'll start with a quick story from the Conner household before getting to my main subject...last night while my daughter and I were playing "Ballerina's" I found out th...uhh...I mean, last night while I was watching my daughter play "Ballerina's" from a safe, manly distance, I found out that she named her Ballerina doll the same name as she has.  She said they were sisters and that they both had the same name - Mackenzie - because it was such a pretty name.  I asked her, "When your mommy calls you, how will you know which one she's calling?"  She answered, "Because my sister has a lower-case "k" and I have an uppercase "K"."  Later she proceeded to scold me over not understanding the way Ballerina's jump and dance.

I also discovered last night that my son (4 months old) has inherited a trait of mine...he finds delight in the misery of others.  If he hears you coughing, he laughs - and the worse the cough, the harder and louder he laughs!  THAT'S MY BOY!

Ok, on to the main topic of the blog: the 5 worst Christmas presents ever.

1. Fruitcake - anyone who gives me this will be the subject of several harsh statements made in a loud voice and possibly containing "no-no" words.  I would smash these with a hammer (like I'm prone to do with stuff that ticks me off) but I'm afraid it would break the hammer.  Why do we have to mix healthy and unhealthy treats?  I don't want fruit pieces in my cake!  Of course, I shouldn't call this stuff cake, because cake doesn't share the same density rating as concrete block.
   
   
2. Socks - is this perhaps the most uninspired, non-fun producing gift ever?  Nothing says "I love you" like something you wear on your feet that will be hidden by your shoes.  Socks are so boring...you don't do fashion with socks (ok, some of you do...and you need help), so what does the person who gets the socks have to think about when they get them?  Especially if it's for a guy?  You walk in, grab any 6-pack, and take them to the register.  They say it's the thought that counts...and what the thought here says is "I don't really care about you.  I'm just obligated to get you something, so here is an item that requires the least amount of effort I could think of.  If it were up to me I'd just kick you in the crotch and walk away.  Merry Christmas ... umm...what was your name again?"
   
   
3. Handkerchiefs - this is one gift I've never understood.  It's like a Kleenex that you use to blow your nose on, only in this case you shove it back into your pocket after using it.  GROSS!  Who thinks this is a good idea?
   
   
4. Self-help books - unless I convey it to you in clear and open terms, don't assume my life is in complete disarray and that I'm on the verge of a physical and mental breakdown.  Giving me a self-help book when I didn't SPECIFICALLY ask for one is tantamount to saying, "I know you didn't mention this, but I really think you suck as a person and need help.  Merry Christmas!"
   
   
5. Big 'Ole Basket Of Dried Meat and Fancy but Inedible Cheese - this gift is a double negative...it shows a lack of thought, but on top of that gives something that you can't enjoy.  With socks, at least you can use them.  It's sort of like saying, "Well, I'm not sure what you like and don't like, and since I don't want to have to figure that out I'll just give you large quantities of off-brand beef jerky and goat cheese."  The meat in there tastes like salted leather and is so greasy you'll break out just touching the package.  And the cheese?  If you like flavored paste you're in luck...for the rest of us, it's "sucky gift" city and you're the mayor. 

"My gift to the world this year is...a Big 'Ole Basket of ME!  Same as last year!  Enjoy all my chewy beef-jerky like goodness!"

May God bless you this Christmas with the knowledge of his Son Jesus Christ, through whom we find forgiveness and peace with the Father.